activation turtle…

woke up from long dreams i don’t really recall, reflecting my current emotional state, which i cannot put words to at all. facebook is slaying me again as i wake up to read about a transgender muslim hacked to death a few days after marriage, the dakota pipleline crisis, more election crap, among other horrifying injustice that dances alongside a personal emptiness i have been feeling. i could have written last night, or painted, or read, or connected with a friend, but i felt so damn empty. had a little bit of passionate conversation over email about a spiritual verse and turning it into an art project. for those few moments i felt more alive than i have felt in a while. i miss only focusing on art and spirituality, but i know i will bridge it in with my school and internship, papers and therapy. my longings for what i don’t have are pretty natural. present moment is feeling productive and also blank. like, i am conquering my fear and accomplishing and yet i feel so blah. again, the need for joy is the call. my mind wants what is out of reach, dissatisfied with current circumstances. back to the practice. watch the breath. accept the feelings. knowing much of my emotional shut down is due to world overwhelm. we just need to see something positive happen. give us a break, spirit. this is how i feel. admittedly, i have fallen off my yoga practice too as i am fighting off cold number two and don’t have the energy. do i sound like negative nancy? i see the lens i am looking through and the dial tone heart is full effect. notice, love, and redirect toward breath. it’s seattle too, the rain and grey settling in, which i love but also can bring me down without me realizing it. i think i need to read a novel. something tells me this is the solution aspect of this phase. pms phase, i just realize too. i want to read some novel, spirit is trying to get through. what novel is it, spirit? i feel like it is a russian author. let the message come through. i think reading a novel will help with my next two papers too. it’s the little things. hermiting feels right. and this too shall pass…

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