up at 6 am and in the cab by 6:20, making sure not to be late. nevertheless my flight is delayed, so now i got time to kill. drank coffee by the big windows, already feeling better by being away from home. already feeling different. the cleanliness of the airport compared to the thick incensed air of my studio, that i am sure is laden with dust in each corner, and four years of every emotion expressed imaginable. maybe i will leave soon after i return from vegas. where i do not know…still. the window repair man said he’d help find me a place through his many contacts. but it just made me feel more confused about where i want to go. though i know it will all fall in place. maybe the job will come first, maybe a new home, or an opportunity. i don’t feel too worried. there’s a deeper sorrow i am concerned about. but i am gonna take care of that too, by being with family in the desert, and getting off of the mother ship. a new identity is forming in the chrysalis of this inner storm. my mid-life crisis came early. maybe cause i am gonna have another one at age 70. who knows. the planes zoom off into the blue sky and i realize how independently i have lived for so long. i’ve lived a single life for my entire adult life, aside from a grand total (if you put the men together) of 2 years. that’s like 98% alone. although for about 6 of those years i had a roommates. still, it’s a lot of time alone. and i have gotten used to it. used to making my own meals and bed and taking myself to where i need to go when i need to get there. it’s different than most people, who at my age, are married, have either been married, usually more than once, or spent many years in long term relationships. i have a few friends that share my fate though. we call it the baron desert. but i think it’s time to look at it differently. jeez, everybody is coughing around me. i sprayed my thieves oil in the bathroom, to not get sick and some woman in the stall next to me kept remarking about how she couldn’t breathe it was so strong. woops. i raced out of there quick, embarrassed. but at least i wont get sick. anyhow, right, looking at things differently. telling a different story. could it be i have been blessed with so many years of solitude? and that when my life partner arrives into my life, i will look back on these past twenty some years with appreciation for being a woman of such strong emotional independence? could be. i could make it so. not that i spend too much time in the shallow end of new age reframing. been there, done that, bought the t-shirt…but i am all inclusive, and sometimes positive reframes are exactly what is needed. there’s a time in everybody’s life to feel the authentic feelings, and then there is time to reframe an old tape that’s played a gazillion times. blah blah blah is how it always goes. the deeper sorrow i feel is not for being alone. it’s for something taken from me long ago. the interesting thing about humans is how unique we are with how we digest our experiences. some have an easier time letting go. lets just say it has not been my strongest suit. but then again, i do easily let go of blame, or surface reactions like that. what’s hard to let go of is more…sorrow. yes, sorrow. maybe i have been sorrow’s soulmate this whole time, devout and loyal till the end. nothing wrong with that, right? what am i even saying? killing time at the airport is all. i want to make this so long and not cut up into paragraphs, that it suffocates. simply to reveal the way thoughts suffocate. to show not tell. the chirping mind at it again, prey tell. what if i had to spend my whole life at the airport, in a satre “no exit” type of hell? hell is other people he said. could it be true? we’ll find out when we’re dead! all one, maharaji chimes in. i know, and i am the fragment that wants to rebel and get some breathing space. maybe all this alone time i have had all these years has been just that. to give me space and silence. maybe i am not one of those people who is community minded. maybe i would rather be hiding away in a home, writing pages from my humble throne, alone, alone alone. don’t take any of this too serious, not that you are, you probably don’t have the mental stamina to read this far, such nonsense from a random woman on wordpress. i, on the other hand, would love this stuff if i came across it, and that’s why i write it. let me dive inside your long winded mind. like kerouac without the drugs. like a long winding path through a dark forest. never do i get sick of words on a page. it’s only too much flesh, too many bodies, that drive me crazy. the speakers play some syrupy pop, while the television on low hums news caster voices daily stuff. don’t want to hear about it. we all have our reasons for being here. we all have our purpose and our matter. each flesh body contains a fragment of oneness which is god so to speak, which is the nectar and the honey, and there’s a two fold destiny. one is to heal and two is to do the thing you are here to do. i have been healing for so many years now it’s become a backround program. that’s how it goes. we will heal till we die and beyond when fully committed. due to thousands of years of karma committed. but there’s also something to be said about what we are here to do. and how much relief that brings to the soul. when i am writing i rarely give a shit about being with a man or alone, about having a real home or a twenty something studio, about if i have to heal forever or not, none of that matters when i am writing, because when i am lost in the plot, in the second life, everything feels perfect. then i stop writing and find myself back in the mode of being an animal and all these needs fire up. i am such a woman! i am a romantic till the end. without falling in love, life feels totally mundane. i must fall in love, and romantic notions always guide my life. they sweep me up in their tender arms and we take flight. one feeding the other. reciprocal. and then it’s back to the lessons and healing. to believe i am enough. to believe there’s a man who will want me for life, whom i can love. to believe i deserve to be here, that i have the right. to face the suffering violence of the world and all the suffering people without giving up and wanting to die. to keep choosing love. to keep my chin up. all of the stuff. all of the stuff. there was just a loud speaker announcement for some person to please call his son. this blog is purposefully long. you probably have not read this far. i am gonna post it with zero editing, spelling mistakes and all. because that is this moment. me in all black sitting my ass on the black seat, sun glaring in my eyes, at the airport in disguise, waiting to fly away from my seattle life, feeling it all, and letting it go of it all. of all the disappointment of feeling more and wanting more than the other, again. of all the regret of thinking i can be casual when i can’t. of going against my nature to get crumbs, even if it’s an honest real beautiful moment. to appreciate the raw beautiful moments like prayer flags in the wind, so impermanent, like life, and reframe the way the gypsy has lived to be more romantic like onlookers see it. yet to also recognize how i seek roots and long lasting things too. to let go of the way the anger presents itself on my body as something ugly. to let go of shame and being overly focused on the self in a negative way, the bloodline stuff, the shadow side of my ancestry. to feel my ancestry in the spirit world, freed from this human prison, strong with psychic powers and all enveloping unconditional love. unconditional love the gift of both my bloodlines, coursing strong through my mom and dad, and beyond, i feel my ancestors give it to me too, blessed for this feeling, like golden bronze it feels, total warmth and security. yes, i am home in this body, i am home in this bloodline, even though it is temporary, it is important to place my roots here, for what is most natural is not to, and to place my roots only in spirit. this is how it’s always been, always remembering where i come from in the stars, on the other side, my lineage beyond the physical, my memories strong, my connection visceral. what makes it hard to have romantic relationships probably too. because i am so much more than human in how i feel, and this larger than life feeling might be hard for most to deal with. or maybe it’s the sorrow part, the desire always to leave the body part, the soulmate to tears, the reaction to all of the suffering. such a dichotomy lives inside of me and it’s not all me but it is cause we are all one. i am you and you and you. i feel this too. but i am also a me, and i know i came into this michelle body to really be a me. it’s like the opposite of the eastern teachings, that i know are true and have felt my whole life. what i need to feel is the singular. to bring the kingdom of heaven to earth, to bring spirit into body, to build with bricks my words. and most importantly, to be the record keep for all of this. i get it now. i feel it. happiness courses through. i feel the divorce happening with sorrow, that although has been faithful and real and honest and valuable, is now saying he wants another wife, somebody like me but younger, at the place i was in when i was eighteen. so i let sorrow go nice and clean. and embrace a new husband inside, a new alchemy. a marius perhaps. i am unsure. but he is birthing, the divine masculine within for sure. a new alchemy within. thank you to my reiki healer and friend, to all of my friends. to my priestess soulmates. to the trees. to the men who teach me how to say no, as painful as it is. to the way life has been, totally as it should be the whole time, i feel the existentialist in me dying too, that masculine, being replaced by who i don’t know, not worried. this chrysalis will reveal when it is meant to be so. if you got through this whole blog, thank you. it’s a total subconscious flow, a writing practice, a time killer, a way to make the airport romantic, pretending to be kerouac without the drugs, pretending i love writing at airports, free to say what i want, to write out the garbage to get to the jewels, as they say. and it’s true. a thousand pages of crap to get to the one page that shines like a ruby. my mom is texting me to entertain me. remember when there was no text? remember the life of records and written letters? but aren’t you tired of that sentiment? i know i sure am. tired of missing olden days, of pre-technology, and also the olden days of the hill, and everybody at war on the hill right now, as the high payed techies move in, pushing us out. but it’s not their fault. it’s everybody’s fault. for letting the ugly powers in power take control of us. both the techies and artists. they divide us to keep our eyes off of them. we could say no to them if were collected together as one. unified we win, divided we fall. can you believe it’s that simple and we as humans cannot pull it off? i mean, really? talk about fucked up. this is why i am a conduit of love. i forgive everybody for everything, always. ok, ending this blog with zero read through and zero edit. just for the hell of it. why not?