sunday languid on and on…

moving backwards from night to morning…

didn’t think i would wind up crying. core insecurity came out from the lips while staring at the lit up windows in dark buildings. he was just being a friend when focusing on trying to get me to focus on only what i want, not what i don’t want but it wasn’t working. felt trapped in a mental web. wanted expansive yin space. to share my vulnerable insides and find beauty there. sometimes trying to fix what’s wrong is wrong, robbing the heart of the beauty of its story and shattering. like my friend wrote me this morning, she likes to think that the heart shatters until there’s nothing left to break and only pure love is left. yes. i don’t want to be a patient, i don’t want to fix. there’s a tragedy living in this body that will always exist. i seek to steep in the beauty of this tragedy. to find poetry in the sorrow and compassion in the pain. to not try to make it go away. this is the place i wish to love from. another friend said it’s easier when they aren’t interested. i though i was past that, but maybe there’s more love to unearth from the shattered pieces. more growing to do in the underworld. always. finding peace there. sipping on bitters, ylang ylang burning, our speaking of the journey. learning through contrast…

breakthrough….when i realized my past is not such a big deal. we all go through pain. we all have intimacy issues. we all are learning how to be the real us loving the real them. i am part of a collective pain. it’s not about victory. it’s about healing through love. again and again…

art on the walls. realizing i see rules i don’t need to follow. led by example. an impulse to use more design and less literalness. a change in in painting style…and added element. awareness again, of how i have zero desire to paint reality, back-rounds and the like. much like the realization above about love and shattering, finding beauty in sorrow and not being a patient with something to fix. literalness is akin to this, i can feel it but i can not yet explain why or how.  walking down the denny hill at sunset freshly showered… after walking all day in the hot sun…

light rail stalled on the tracks so we took the bus, and walked home from 23rd. thank god we were not trapped on that train. being trapped would’ve been too much. trusting the flow. timing. her first time on the link. walking into synchronicity. newness. the birth of the transit system. people coming together in a new way. feel almost like going back there today. drawn to the u-district. the valley of roses. magus books. allegro coffee. campus. the library. thai food. a bit of bohemia still left. saying to her on the walkway, “the way of bohemia is dead.”  knowing that it is. the free soaps she handed us. cucumber and black cherry. me choosing black cherry. my spirit fruit. always a little bit of black. underworld lover, pinning the light down with my searing truths. peaceful in my placement in the firmament…

breakfast by the dock with old friends, spewing about my calling to help people pass into the realm of the dead…to write the myth that streams through my head…to weave breet’s cross while speaking soothing words. clarity. focus. leopard print pants. poached eggs and coffee. silliness. knowing each other for seventeen years. seeing one another walk through this journey of life, there for each part of it.  what will be next?

i am basking in the revelry….

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