super full moon half way point spew…

oh magical cafe cave, i drew my next tattoo in you today.  sacred symbol hemp latte.  i’m in the mood to mix words.  stir it up.  dive into the violet ambrosia.  the scent coming from my freckles is amber and vanilla.  moving the crystals into a circular formation, activating the love ship.  telepathic celestial cave mary.  golden labradorite shining my eyes toward the sun.  doing the window display yellow.  an homage to lila.  and ode to fun.  to being a child again.  to the flow that gushes and getting lost in the feeling.  nine hours in the jewel box, not thinking.  doing.  creating.  giving.  heart wide like the pine scented grand canyon and deep like deep sea indigo green.  up we go, into the imagination, where my body can be free to express.  no walls or guards.  no worry or distress.  rinsing out the focused working day with a night sky stare, lit with stars-i mean building window lights…and the sound of the river- i mean cars, wafting by….city cascading into nature…looking into the dusk and dawn sky…how i love the seductive transitions between night and day…. when logic vaporizes into the diffused pinks of the sun coming up or going away…  

makes me think of where i work, and how it’s not just a place, it’s also a being.  i put vajra to bed with sage and goodnights, and feel the dragon up above give a baritone yawn before closing green eyes.  thinking about the homeless addicted who camp out next door, where the store front is in transition…another transition point…this one not seductive, except in it’s sorrow….how drugs led them to their home on the side walk, unable or not wanting to help themselves.  but it’s not the drugs that started it.  it’s the lack of love from the get go, in certain hearts, that lead them to the very bottom of the ocean floor, where eels with electric eyes slither, erasing sanity.  the difference in those who descend, and those who ascend is not to be judged or used as comparison.  comparison can be the devil when you think your capabilities should naturally be everyone’s.  but judging happens because deep down, there’s anger for those not able to help themselves.  and that anger roots itself to the fear which arises when the heart senses that logic does not solve the pain of living and loss.  and underneath that fear, is a tremendous sorrow…much like volcanic magma.  and sometimes it needs to burst out…  

like it did for me the other night.  when i cried alone in the dark, after being awoken by post bar party people, calling the manager, and him denying me, telling me i am the sensitive one.  true.  i knew in those tears, i need to listen to my sorrow, and give myself a move to a place more suited for me.  places are beings.  and this relationship with my studio is a comfort zone pair of slippers it’s time to let go of.  i don’t know where i will go yet.  been told by a great tarot reader to let go, chill, let it come to me, and then gather the strength to put into action, swift change.  queen of wands!  it’s not a rut i am in.  more a confusion, which manifests as indecision.  i surrender.  and open like a bud.  allowing change to blossom and reveal itself to me in the living moment, from the heart.  learning energetic husbandry.  a softer warrior, not even a warrior much anymore.  more like a farmer, tilling the land with simple joy, and occasional torrents of rain…simple joy for the community and my connection to the muse, and storms for the pain…both loving up on each other…yin and the yang…