floodgates, check. opening, check. hops and barstools and listening to the muse, being a good listener, not interjecting me into the listening. writing messy in a journal with a fox on it. characters forming from real life but turning into fiction characters. is this who the myth people are? is hanuman a ficitonalized real person? i feel so. concepts and metaphors, atoms, and particles, don’t float in some lifeless void connecting together like a tetris game, only appearing to have all this personality. atoms are adam. atoms are tiny eyes and hearts. what did the spider in the sink mean? when a spider is poised like that, out of harm’s way, i feel it is the divine feminine, grandma spider. a good spider. when the spider was crawling on my body and kathleen yelled, “take it off!!!” and i knew she meant my shall, and i threw if off as the big ass wolf spider scuttled away….i knew it was a warning. in a breathless frenzy i said to her, “what does is mean?” she said it meant i needed to stop with the negative self talk. a bad spider. there is a place for bad and good. it’s not good to lash somebody or yourself. and yet the paradox is, we are learning as oneness, to lash out and feel the pain and not do it again, in the moment. the creative moment. all is is-ing. izzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzing. turning of events. seeing the suffering of the world, wanting to come up with solutions. tired of grieving and tired of those who ignore, not grieving, and picking up their slack, because…since we are all one organism, those who repress feelings create those who feel too much. turn the volume down? can’t. sweat it out in yoga. grounded was the word today. lots of balancing poses. moving from pose to pose with mindful grace. sometimes wobbling. twisting deeper. still needing to be on my knees. still listening to kd. chanting away. feeling and speaking with baba. finally painting. it took the wild being let out. it took being alone and blazing. it took not being lazy. craving to do nothing is a real thing. just as much as the practice. deciding who to be on halloween. aversions to overly masculine ritual magic mystery school bullshit. how they think we think. sometimes i don’t care about stones, tarot, astrology, or any of the tools of this trade. you want to run out screaming. but instead, write the play. lila gets her way. through and as. me. rose, vetiver, violet and vanilla. maybe i’ll get a bike. name it something with a v like veruca. giving away turquoise and getting rid of shirts, like i am leaving, but it appears so far, that i am sticking around. blue roses and copper crowns. a story of love from the inside out….