how it goes is how it goes…

good morning, blog.  woke up extra early cause i went to bed extra early exhausted from lack of sleep/catharsis the night before, and the kind of morning run that in the moment, frees me of everything inside, but afterward knocks me down like a sail with no wind.  the cards are in flux again, just like the energies.  and here i am, trying not to figure it all out, but to allow life to present itself to me, remaining true to my magnetic ways.  saying no to what does not serve, saying yes to what does.  drinking turmeric tea.  reading tolstoy, whom i realize is helping me dissect a current moral dilemma.  the sky is chalky smalt blue pushing through a grey dawn.  i get to leave the hill today.  field trip.  excited.  how much time i spend on the hill, having no car, being not much of a bus rider, and not a city biker either.  it amazes me how many weeks and even months in a row i won’t leave the hill.  when i had a car i was all over the place all the time.  in and outside the city, road trips, you could not keep me in one place very long.  now i circle the hill over and over, not leaving unless somebody with a car takes me away, or i occasionally get on the bus, or uber, or get on my tri yearly plane rides to vegas and sometimes the east coast.  there is something about the hill too.  it has a very magnetic effect.  sucks you in i would say.  my friends who left the hill, all left due to men taking them away.  they don’t miss it.  the hill is much like sesame street, in my mind.  well, a gritty city version.  you see and say hello to the same faces every day at qfc, the cafes, bars, restaurants, and on the street.  then the streets are always strewn with the homeless on drugs, the crazy homeless, the crazy homeless on drugs, and the crazy.  i say crazy logically, not to be mean.  these people are psychotic, need medication and help they are not getting.  it’s severely sad.  i have learned to become immune to it.  which is also sad.  the new hill has the yuppy invasion as it’s called, making the rents way way too high and the many new restaurants pricey and snobby (seventeen bucks for a tiny portion of something you cannot pronounce, or just a burger.) this is driving the artists out because we don’t work corporate jobs and make the bucks.  it’s causing a hill war so to speak, which true to seattle’s style, all happens through snide remarks and intellectual rebuttals in the stranger, our local paper.  there have also been a hand full of gay bashings where the hill used to be the gay mecca.  fucking horrible and heart breaking.  i am only able to afford rent barely but the next raise and i will need to move.  when i move out, they will redo my place and most likely jack the rent by three hundred.  i want to move, but i don’t know where, and the hill sucks me in.  i don’t know how to leave.  it will take somebody or a job or something tangible to do it, not just my own will randomly selecting a place.  i don’t work that way.  for as much as i am ready for a change, there are the positives too, such as feeling like i am in mr. rogers (fucked up) neighborhood where everybody knows my name, great places i visit as a regular, walking to everything, and it’s really quite beautiful on the hill, a sweet balance of city and nature.  walked with my friend down to pike place market yesterday.  done that a gazillion times.  felt blah.  was uninspired.  trinkets and food, tourists and crowds.  the sun was out and weather warm, but i guess i wasn’t in the mood.  dreamed i moved back to new york city last night.  a place i love but don’t belong.  or didn’t.  not sure if i belong to a place.  i belong to what’s inside not outside.  but the outside is rad and i love it and i want to be inspired again.  the weight of the world is heavy and not easy to contend with.  but i and many of us are here to be lights that drape over the shadows to illuminate them.  you could say i am a believer in the shamanic-psychoanalytic-transformative work of pulling out the roots of delusion from the unconscious core, and setting the heart free to blossom.  it works for me.  so i go within and keep digging, instead of grasping for things outside of myself.  my blossoming might be slow, but it’s steady and reliable.  a good vent is wonderful too.  i miss that about new york.  how it’s normal to vent there.  here, if you vent, people swarm around you trying to turn your sentences into positivity and demanding you say your gratitudes.  i only do that when i go into the negative.  but rigid positivity that is fearful of feelings and thoughts that are sad, angry, upset, worrisome, frustrated…well, that’s just as harmful as being negative.  denial works on both ends of the spectrum.  you can deny the light or deny the shadow.  my playground is always in the middle at a denial free, all inclusive resort, filled with every kind of weather.  i need variety.  without variety i suffocate.  contrast is refreshing too, i think, as a pitch black crow sails across the now foggy white morning sky.  and most importantly, nothing stuffy, nothing boxy, nothing perfect and uptight, snooty, on stilts, trying to be something to cover the emptiness it is beneath, shallow, trite, glossy, polished, statuesque, acting as if it’s permanent.  hang tibetan prayer flags to erode in the wind, show me your messy and vulnerable temporary heart, i’ll read the timeless literature, but even those people are dead….so carry on life, with your beautiful secret agenda-less ways…my knees are scabbed by now from being on them….