drink yellow, dreamers…

still feeling quiet, though i’ve been social a little bit and it’s been good to see my peeps…am finding it difficult to converse still.  really, if i had it my way, i’d be alone in the forest for a week right now to paint and write and stare into the trees and have one hundred percent solitude.  instead i am doing it urban style by going to yoga, painting, writing, and staring out over sky scrapers under the clear blue summer sky.  wearing tank tops to sleep and sweating.  lighting white sage and dragon’s blood.  contemplating the primal self for an upcoming workshop.  feeling my primal self.  tons of anger.  anger showing up on my skin, big red mountains.  anger that wants to sing.  wail.  wishing right now, i had the know-how to write and create a song i am wailing into a mammoth canyon, like a raging wolf.  but alas, i don’t have musical talent.  i can sing a little.  but it’s not the same when you cannot make your own melody.  anger at so much.  in my personal story and the collective.  little boxes on the hillside, made of avoidance and delusion.  war on the rise?  will people be prejudice to express their anger?  probably.  fuck that.  not me.  it’s not anyone’s religion, ethnicity, or skin color, that makes them good or bad.  wake up people!  it’s one’s actions that make them bad.  and bad is when you hurt others consciously, without caring about them.  bad is when you are prejudice too.  can barely handle my facebook feed.  terrified of what’s to come and unsure if it’s me being manipulated, or intuition?  so i paint, write, stare, prepare for teaching, get into poses, sweat, wear onyx and rose quartz, burn cedar wood, and remind myself of the dream that is the now.  the dream we all call reality.  i am dreaming.  right?  my shark-like left brain says, “you tell yourself that to cope with the pain”.  and my whale-like right brain says, “of course, you can feel it.”.  oh to be human.  the body is a drug.  it intoxicates.  the violence, it hurts so much, i can barely be here now.  the complicity is burdening me.  death feels like a relief.  but i know i’m supposed to bring  light to this body and shine it outward, not escape back into oneness light.  it’s hard.  yellow quartz on the middle finger. need more yellow.  yellow is healthy power.  no more apologies.  i miss him.  been missing him a lot these past few days.  strength to let go in the missing.  how my body craves touch and affection and sexual healing and fun and how i wish this for everyone.  feeling the weight of the world.  atlas is not fucking shrugging.  ayn rand was another crack pot extremist, in my opinion.  so fucking angry at extremes.  of one side canceling out the other.  i only want to cancel out the sides that cancel out.  and don’t tell me that i am being extreme by being angry at extremes.  i am sick of that linguistic reminder.  i know.  we all know.  i want to grow corn and sometimes you have to pull out weeds to do so.  problem is, people are pulling out the wrong plants.  why isn’t love ruling?  the sun shines so bright today.  maybe love is ruling?  i live in a beautiful bubble and i don’t know why i get to.  there is no justice in nature.  justice is a human invention. nature is everything, the all of experience, not just one side, not just peace, love, and sunshine.  the injustice, if you look at it with pure reason, is human invented too.  but because we are master delusionists, we had to create a monster to blame it on.  this is how prejudice is born.  the ignorance is a child’s game.  fear is a trickster.  the best i can do is be kind and also, know when to say no.  no, there is no monster.  only grave opulent sickness wreaking havoc through the collective known as the human race.  too much for my heart.  craving sugar.  escape.  moon time running late.  a waiting for the full moon?  capricorn super full moon on saturday.  uranus about to go retrograde.  smoke em while you got em, lucky ones.  if peter gabriel’s song comes to life, then, drink up dreamers.  the sun blanches cream colored buildings, making the blackness of the open windows look like teeth that have been pulled out of a mouth.  go back to the canvas and get it all out.  read emerson.  drink lemon water.  saturate in yellow yellow yellow…