oh my goodness was today a lightning storm in my head. i got triggered all night. it’s in new york i got really sensitive to sound. maybe cause it’s so loud there all the time. now, if i feel people’s energy too close at night, that i don’t vibe with, that are getting really drunk and smoking on the fire escape, i feel a need to escape. what a great practice to bring presence here to the moment, to create a different experience of it. i tell myself, “every sound you hear soothes you,” and, “sound is just a texture, that’s all.” and other things to see if i can let go of feeling like escaping and getting flare ups in my tummy. at the same time, this experience tells me what i don’t want. i want home to be family. i want home to feel like family….not like this….isolation…and closeness to people that chafe. at the same time the hill calls to me. i feel determined to stay here. why? my loyalty. but i don’t want to choke myself if i gotta get out. do i need more nature? but i have this urban vision. i am not sure what i need in detail but some key ones are being denied…still…and it makes the brain tweak into a fluorescent version of itself. back to that practice of living a new experience, to bringing presence, a feeling of this moment being precious for whatever it is. all experiences have their valid, ugly, and beautiful sides. i want to honor body. honor and accept the physical for all it is, the good with the bad, the ugly and the vision of beauty. i want to love and care for this body deeply now. in a way that is quite new. and then sometimes the soul wants some cheese and wine, or a trip some place new, or meeting you. i am climbing climbing climbing and i’m taking my genes off. transform. yesssssss i feel it, drunk on evolution. the worst it is now is a fleeting lightning strike. fleeting fireworks, these old stories, having their final send off into the sky. karma is hurt that continues to sear itself into existence, through personal stories and lives. we share these stories in common, though the details vary. as does the self. i feel a release on the verge. i can ride my storms different now, as a surfer, or a dragon ryder. learning through yoga right now. i am a beginner filled with excitement for the path of opening and becoming stronger. being this strengthening opening body feels pleasurable. and how different that is from the “dissociate from the physical cause it’s terrible” body. forgiveness. in one swoop, i let it all go, i let it be what it is, and i give it love, her love, him love, me love, life love. i give love and acceptance where once, there was hurt and resistance. i am free. i feel free anyhow. there is no freedom for the living. we are chained to being alive. wait, smash that image. do it, michelle. smash the old image. the lightening storm is the tower of thought crumbling. be brave enough to dream up a new feeling. bring love to the parts you are afraid of. i think of bone cave ballet’s video. i think of you. i crave a new story. do i have the courage to let go of the old one? the moulin rains call me back. wind blows my hair into a monsoon. destruction ever lingers. this leo full moon is hair raising. my eyes are glowing citrine. things are not what they seem. letting my brain unravel. paper dolls strewn across the fireplace, made out of yesterday. turn your head and everything changes. the world becomes new. buckets of fascination lurk behind over worked eyes. i want to melt the shellac off every shoulder, but i don’t always want to know what’s inside. this village i live in has it’s dark side. you learn how to navigate through it like a little rocket ship, spreading light. trusting in creating your reality, even if you did not create your life, because life did not get created…and life wont ever die. life is life is life. consciousness is dancing into every form to experience the show, to learn, to grow into all sorts of things, and we are pin prick constellations dreaming up this place. i don’t know what i am saying anymore. the lightning storm makes not perfect sense. i hear the rain outside beat upon the roof like thumb prints. i feel scared and fizzy. but when i write, everything feels right. pleasure. keep writing. even if your life is in a million pieces on the floor…you are not shattered, you’re making a mosaic.