free flow #23

considering stopping public writing because of privacy reasons. i don’t want to but i am unsure if i should? another freezing beautiful winter sunny day that is like the east coast but here in seattle. the snow capped mountains stare at me though the window, on the other side of the city scape. this view, this view, this view. slept long and hard and dreamed about renting rooms in houses of certain women i love. maybe it’s a sign i will do that. sang to songs for hours in a row last night. it was all i could do to digest the experience of the day. got triggered in the day and never knew about the trigger until yesterday. on one hand, a relief to understand the trigger. on the other hand, scary and sad. i juggle and move into the fire. i juggle and transform myself into more of who i am. peeling back the layers. today is my last day of officially having a day at vajra. from spiritual counselor to therapist i go, down the hatchet, off the throne, onto the lotus, in the world, with my tongue made of diamonds. or something like that, just letting the words flow. cessation from big emotion and big thoughts. winter wakes up a central part of me. this kind of winter. cold bright blue sky winter. i love it so much. i feel lonely to share it with somebody, per usual. but i am ok alone. i sing, i read, i contemplate, i make art, i pull cards, i talk to angels, i make do, i get along, i stare into the sky, i gather round my space heater, i wear a wool shawl, i use an ancient shamanic tool as a fake mic, i dream, i write, i don’t sink into any stories….really. i mean, what stories are real? none of them, really. and yet i honor the story and i am re-writing the story at the same time. rebellious against only buddhist psychology because it’s too extreme. i want to dive and and stand above at the very same time. the center is rich and gooey, mysterious and wondrous. i belong to cult of creativity. i don’t become static ever so no clever dogma to become solid inside and no one way of doing things to beef up my pride and nothing that can stick me in a container for too long either while i am at it and the heart keeps beating, i am the bass drum….beat….beat….beat….beat…

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