Tuesday, June 21

Solstice Mourning

Its a looming kind of sadness...

One, complete with a taste of bitter
like the kind olive leaf extract leaves in the back of my mouth
when I've got the shits for days on end
there's no sweet
no sweet

Its a longing of sorts

A longing for that kind of a relationship with a mother
that others seem to have
one where the child feels held. safe. alive. heard. cherished. loved.

There seems to be an inherent lack of trust an understanding there instead

What can I do?

Yes. In. Out. In again.

But those trees. And the nighttime summer breeze. And a brother stepping up, stepping in. Now they speak a language I seem to understand.

We called it summer solstice today. June 21st 2011. And I'm thinking I can stand here,  on this 3rd floor, and be heard, even if just for this one night, just this one bowl of cereal in time.

A brother comes. A brother calls. A brother gets it. And I get him. And for that, I feel held. safe. alive. heard. cherished. loved and THAT being me tremendous joy. Deep love. True admiration. Gratitude on this Solstice as I begin my march towards this final battle...this last demon. I won't let it take me down. No I will only rise...rise...rise with the Solstice as my witness and my brother by my side.

Monday, June 20

No Manure...No Magic

So what of existence? So what of coincidences?
Of loneliness and playing pretend?
But even with my therapist?
Can I show her the truth?
She's a reflection of my mind, yet I still want to hide.
Do I need to impress her too? What am I to do?

Somethingness. Nothingness.
No Difference...
Yet, are we really the same?

Thursday, June 16

Throwing a Star into a Black Hole

Today's been quite exhausting. Paid homage at the great momma Atlantic last night under the Gemini sun, Sagittarius full moon, total lunar eclipse...

Watched the waves of motion, of darkness, of reflection, of light, moving in towards me as I sat between her moving body and conjunct the galactic centered moon. Acknowledged my wounded, young self, my little girl, my Christina. Told her its okay, rose up and released a dead bird I found earlier in the day.

I think being with her might have taken more from me then I bargained for.
But all is what it needs to be
I suppose. What else could there be?
I plan to sleep early tonight and dream vividly

Something about this picture and article resonates on some unfathomable level:

If yer so inclined...

Find time...

...I think I know I feel...
what love is... 

Friday, June 10

Notes From my Bedroom Window

There's a fierceness of reorganization happening here - I can see it in the deep bend of the trees, the hushed yet urgent voice of the thunder, the shifting, seemingly erratic west winds - the same ones playing down their power, but with a deep knowing of their strength.

A confidence, of where they come from. I can see it in my changing patterns of sleep, as I awaken at two twenty to stand by my windows in magnetizing conversation with the light show playing outside in the darkened night sky.

Realignment. I like that. As a matter of preference,  not fact, I believe the planet is mirroring our own internal processes - our own alignment, or perhaps we're mirroring hers...its hard to say.

Cosmically, the big bang seems to be regrouping and as I stand here in awe of the unfathomable brewing outside, i can only hope to continue moving myself.

Sirens. Raindrops. Thunder. And yet there's a sort of inhibition, to fully unleash the power. Reminds me of how I feel towards the yogi up high...only leaving timeless behind as the main clue.

Yet, I don't fear the boogie man in this room, as lay here, naked upon this bed now. I'm seeing the raw naked fear of the boogie man i have to contend with in this head. Yet the birds still sing, even as potential destruction passes overhead. I'm sensing the wits to take clues from them.

Yes. Realignment, as in a chance to begin again, and being intimate with this brilliant and precious Earth is the one thing I know will see this through.

One foot in front of the other. It really is the only way. Listen. And not just, but deeply.

Those winds, the songbirds, and even that red raw beauty pumping oxygen through our bodies...they don't fabricate. They only speak the language of the timeless truth of being inherent in this infinite moment

Thursday, June 9

Summer Rain

Standing in the rain
simply being with the rain
feeling the rain
laying in the wet green grass
in the rain

Thunder pounding overhead
lightening brightening the sky 
I feel alive
my body responds to this stimuli
alive and high

Beautiful man standing behind
feeling the same rain
drenching his skin
we find nourishment
in the form of connection
we share

Dripping hair
I make my way home
no shower needed after my daily run

Wednesday, June 1

Noticing the Changes

now replacing the song of coyotes

now replacing the imposing sun

even before it hits the earth

But still, this song cycles around
on repeat...

A New Moon Dance

June 1st 1992.

12 years old, stumbling towards the court house in the early morning heat. A sense of "I'm not good enough but too good for this" fills her thoughts and she dances on the brick under the Gemini new moon.

Swift changes? For sure. And before she knows it, she's standing inside someone's home she's yet to know. If only she knew how to meditate...it would have really helped then, while she laid her youthful body upon that cold concrete basement floor. Too open, too young. Scared, yet fearless in her reproach.

Ffowardast as in fast toward forward, fast. Now.

June 1st 2011.

So, here she lays, a 30 year old woman staring at a lite up screen. Waiting for 31. A woman. One who often wonders when 12 turned into 30. Hmmmm...she says, supposing right now in this moment would be anyone's best guess.

She pauses, reflects. A thanks, she says out-loud, to all the possible gods and goddess as she stands and makes her way to the cushion. To sit. Thank you. To meditate. Thank you. To be. Thank you. To allow. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

...and there she goes...

Once again
towards a deepening connection with repose