dreams and nostalgia…

intense dreaming. i am living in a house with other roommates, some from school. we are sitting in the basement on a red couch. i am telling a blond woman who believes in the bible but is not fundamentalist, “look, i don’t believe in the bible, i think it’s completely false and nothing will ever change that, but if you believe in it and don’t harm others with your beliefs than that’s cool.” as i was saying this the blond began to seethe with anger because i was denying the bible. i said, “i am tired of all the hate and the only way to stop it is allow everyone to believe what they believe,” something along these lines. as i was saying this i noticed a smokey mass up in the sky. it was falling towards us. “look!” i screamed, pointing toward it.  the mass made its way to the ground, softly hitting the earth, cause now we are outside and not in the basement. the mass is an acoustic guitar. end dream.

i think of when he dropped the violin, allowing it to hit the ground at school. i think about identity and beliefs. i am somebody who thinks the bible is false and that the abrahamic religions are false. i never subscribed to my religion of origin. this will always be the case for me. at times i have felt immense anger that religion exists, even though i know it’s not religion causing the issues, it’s the fundamentalist attitude. the anger is caused by a desire to see deception die. to protect the true vastness within people, to protect true spiritual connection forever alive, growing, emerging, just like nature. i recognize this as my story though. i don’t want to contribute to anger as a tool of division. there are plenty of loving religious people who don’t harm others with their beliefs. i am done dividing. my spiritual beliefs would have plenty of people thinking i am “crazy”. i fit in much more with the religious types than the atheist types for this reason. i live mostly with a mythological framework, and i believe the archetypes are sentient. i believe everything is sentient. anyhow, the point i am making is…live and let live (so long as your version of living does not harm.)

the guitar falling. that is the one instrument i have had a love affair with my entire life. i have owned a handful of guitars. i have written a  handful of the most amateur songs one can write on guitars. i once painted my struggle with playing guitar and won an award at a juried show for the piece, ironically. i always sold the guitars because i could not reach the c chord no matter how much i tried. maybe it is time to try again. one song i wrote back in the day sticks with me and one friend, who can still sing it by heart with me. it was about a guy, of course. these were the lyrics:

~falling in his wind again. what’s real to me is in his head. and i know too much of what he doesn’t see. with each broken thought i feel he scatters me. i am threatened in his wreckage. or maybe…i’m just there. maybe i’m just there. battles i’ve done before, pills opened up a door, wine is my favorite one, this is my kind of love….it goes time with you, clothes with you, money with you, kisses with you like poison. i was a ghost of my own applaud. when you let me in, i burned down some walls. down, down. his push confused your sensuality. and my lips were your alcoholic sanctuary.  then we shook hands. i feel something strong but i’m moving right along. moving on. (forgot this line, darnit) i am your perfect contradiction, yeah. now tell me how can i understand the child in the fallen man. because what you are is untouchable, yeah. i feel something strong but i am moving right along~

ah, sentiment. that song was sung a thousand times. it represents the old me. for years she drew to her boys who needed her healing, who took from her. she gave herself away, too insecure to ask to be loved for who she is. back then she was nowhere near being in her body. those days are over and gone along with all the lessons lived in all the cities that brought me back to seattle four times and eventually right into the present moment (once i discovered meditation and yoga.) each city played the role of an ally and an ogre at times, depending on the mood of the moment. each city was a backdrop creating a similar stage but with different vibes and personality traits. las vegas and new york both gemini and both homes forever. san francisco, missoula, portland, santa fe, and beloit…feeling strange inside them like exotic partners.  virginia, the first home and land that made me who i am. and am i missing one? no, i don’t think so…

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