full moon mutterings from the barely speakable…

can barely use my mind.  let go of a lot tonight.  feel new.  unga bunga.  gravity still clamping my body down.  tired of everything i write.  over it all tonight.  want to rush like a river into the sea and be free.  me and all humanity.  the hunger for cleansing and freedom.  choosing what i get to eat.  should not be for only some.  remember when the gods played tug of war with the demons, in order to see what got hidden beneath the milky sea, after everything flooded?  and up stood lakshmi?  remember when all the gods and goddesses had to make a new goddess to fight the buffalo demon?  tales of dark verses light are the cells talking.  sweet little cells, trying to get a point through.  what do you think cancer is?  it’s a buffalo demon.  when she told the story of that guy who realized he was living by the vow, “life isn’t as it should be,” and once he let that vow go, healed from all of his physical disease, you see….something different than what is taught out there.  not to judge the experience of physical suffering.  makes me think of a krishna das story, about how a devoted wife was physically sick her whole life cause she had diabetes, and only ate fruit cause that’s all her husband could eat.  but she was cool with it.  i know, you could argue she sacrificed too much.  but it’s up to each person to decide how much they will sacrifice and why.  this blog is all over the place.  telling the homeless guy he cannot use any more gift cards and i cannot answer anymore questions.  towing the line between being a doberman shop keeper and compassionate priestess.  many skills are learned.  can i be even more present?  fear takes me to places all over that are not right here.  weeeeeeeeee.  red bees wax candle.  raw honey.  the bees.  weapons.  death.  the stinging.  oh scorpio, you lovely being.  seeing through veils that don’t drop, yet reveal.  healing the sick and being the meal.  i dunno.  i am tired.  all of it.  all of it.  the eeriness of the protest.  cops and protestors both suffering, as she said.  all of us one.  coming undone.  that was a no brainer.  lines of words strain from the brain like milk from the sea after the flood, when the world was separated into three parts.  mysteries.  memories.  a swim in the turquoise sea with dolphins the same as walking the city streets past the homeless.  this one big all inclusive delusion the collective culture is weaving into a planetary paradise.  same old reactivity leads to same old results.  change is happening right now.  in how we react.  the key.  looking into the mirror of my heart, the same exact moment i look outward into everything my eyes see.  this is the art…