cave wall dancing….

sad this morning. sky is whitish grey. construction bangs to my left. dreamed about being chosen, as a mere commoner, to sing this madonna song called “sooner or later” from the dick tracy soundtrack, at the grammies. i was at the drugstore with my shopping helper, which was normal in the dream, telling her about it while perusing through cheap makeup. fucking weird. the teenager is visiting me this morning. i am sad for a reason i don’t want to write about because i don’t want to cause an energetic response of the usual: it comes when you are not looking, focus on yourself, fix this aspect of yourself to manifest it, blah blah blah, cliche, overused non-empathic statement completely incongruent with my actual reality. the teenager wants to say, “shut the fuck up peanut gallery.” my soul chimes in and reminds me, “they know not what they do.” i have always been empathetic and avoided cliche fix-it american responses, but even more so now after spending five days practicing the rogers method in school. the teenager wants to vent about reductionist fix-it cliche statements in general, that do not recognize or validate the reality of tragedy for tragedy’s sake. the reason i wrote my first novel was to honor tragedy. not everything is fixable. it’s brainwash to think so in my opinion. sometimes the best that can be done is to heal through the power of love. i have so much love in my heart. it’s gushing every second these days. more so with the cessation of the uber discipline i was engaged in with yoga and equanimity over the past two years, which wound up closing my heart. is this ironic? not sure. but at the same time bhakti krishna das chanting was opening it. so both. doesn’t matter. tangents. what i do notice about this sadness here with me today, is that it’s not coming from the wounded child, whom i gave to the moon. it’s very present sadness for not being chosen, not being met in the physical with mutual positive regard and secure attachment. the desire is strong and i honor it deeply. frida kahlo knows. i don’t feel my beauty and this is my fault. not reality. i feel ugly today. here’s where i need to apply a fix-it model. i will. gonna do yoga and chant and kick out those lies. it’s impossible to sink into feeling ugly anymore. i can only observe the searing meanness course through me and try to take me down. deeper than insecurity. self destructive. softly self destructive. my style. nobody even notices. i will help people and show up with my libra moon charm or even scorpio surliness, and not a soul will know i am quietly taking myself down. it’s kind of funny. a secret. no worries cause capricorn north node stays in the stupid drivers seat, being reasonable and seeing the structure of the unconscious objectively. no big deal, just the program being faithful to the program. slow removal of the program happening through the practice, blah blah blah. i want to help people die. that’s a big deal. i want to work right on the edge of life and death. i am a gatekeeper between worlds. i thought maybe i was meant to work with children, but i don’t know. i think that might be due to a mental thing, about people telling me that over time. i am good with kids. i am good with people. but callings are different. they are personal. they work on you and the callee, equally. no sacrifice. no martyrdom. wanted so bad to creatively write yesterday but i don’t feel creative this week at all. the painting of the fool sits untouched on my easel. i just don’t fucking care. i have nothing to express. this storm is not much fun and it just wants to curse and rebel. the teenager. my passions are unsparked. my romantic love is unmet. the prayer wheel is gone. sorrow. at the same time, thank you life…for all that is wonderful. blessings are many. i don’t want to write about the daylight though. i don’t want to feed the positive junkie machine this country runs on that creates such a huge scary shadow as a result of the resistance to it. i give space for my sorrow today. beautiful sad shadows dancing all over my cave wall…

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