tumbling words from the nonsense factory and other news…

it’s rainy and i have not been to yoga since monday.  this has been a strange week of falling off my routine, and feeling unable to practice.  i have also felt very scared.  waves of fear coursing through my body.  i watch the fear, take aspen flower essence, keep living.  realizing i am lunar all the way.  not solar.  so, there are weeks where i need to not practice and be in a different cyclical flow.  yoga will return on monday.  this week big spurts of the book have poured into my brain, changing the plot, thickening the characters.  and painting came back with a force of lightning.  now i am resisting it.  why?  who cares why.  watch the resistance with love…and this too shall pass.  i am holding hands with love as i walk into a new dimension.  this week it’s been about change.  a costume change it feels like.  i am going to see krishna das live in dc, the place i was born. at last!  been trying to figure out how to get there on my measly budget, checking his tour schedule constantly, and then it just sorta happened, real easy…with the help of being loved.  i know it’s no fluke that the first time i see him is where i was born and raised.  full circle.  if i were to paint the feeling, it would be me ripping my heart open to reveal krishna das, ripping his heart open to reveal maharaji, ripping his heart open to reveal hanuman, ripping his heart open to reveal ram and sita, ripping their hearts open to reveal what cannot be seen but only felt.  love.  bhakti.  she calls it the love lineage.  i want to paint it.  mars in pisces has me in his soft grip…i am lingering in the softness.  not being at yoga this week feels like a softening too.  the feminine flow needed to dominate this week i suppose.  but the emperor is in full effect too, as i streamline my juggling act of…lets see…how many jobs?  seven.  always seven.  maya devi dying seven days after buddha was born, coming to me.  ganesha came for a visit yesterday too…so i fed him one of those sweet doughy balls and sung his name.  it’s not religious.  it’s a playful waterfall of spirit having a material experience.  it’s free form.  spontaneous.  it’s being in love with love.  i got about zero dogma in me, and only tradition where it’s romantic.  don’t put anything in boxes, cause nothing is solid anyway…but the feeling.  rose colored heart creating the sea from which all life sprung.  sweet water devotee.  swift wind devotee.  amber, blood of the tree, always on the first finger.  coral over the high heart.  coconut oil in everything.  the sound of the rain tickling the window sills…i don’t even know what i am saying….words tumble out without thought.  no lose, no gain.  a grasshopper walking on stilts.  maybe i want to learn the harmonium and do the call too.  could be i am the me that is inside the you…