yesterday was exactly what i needed to recharge my soul. long slow yoga session in the morning after waking up extra early brought my mind back to my body. brought me back to equanimity after a fiery anxious week using every ounce of management skills to stay balanced. walked in a steady rain to the cafe to read the red book and was taken deep into my heart. jung’s words strike the chords of my true essence. ran some errands and came home to paint. was joined by a person i know from the inside out. it was so much fun to paint together and to talk about the real stuff on levels he and i always go to with ease. truth. goals. intimacy. attachment styles. understanding avoidance and disorganization. finding our way to the center. the secret passage way we’ve all forgotten. how it doesn’t have to be so hard. praying for miracles. walking out of the cave. the grey clouds are rolling fast across the dark mountains this morning. i am at an impasse with painting. the hunger is to paint huge abstracts in a whirlwind of right brained spewing in a messy basement or art studio. but instead i use my little canvas and cheap paints in a small corner of my apartment, trying to get away from form. i am sick of painting forms. i want messy and emotional hints at form. i want freedom from the solid lines. i want low brow unconscious unleashing. i want heart speak. i know what i want with paint but not with romantic love on the outside. i know what i want inside. equality and differentiation, compassion and empathy, fun and passion, lust and love, compatibility and ease to contrast the work that comes with developing intimacy. i do not know what he looks like, who he is, what he does, how he dresses. i have no types, i don’t care. there are no more pedestals and no more illusions. i am knee deep in contemplations about intimacy. i feel my intimacy longing like a tight rope walker wishing to be a deep sea swimmer. appreciating my longings and being me. not allowing this world and all of these shadows to demolish the sacred essence that is impervious to the erosion of time and dramatics of our collective story. pain is part of love. i am loving from the inside out. i don’t care about your body and how it looks, i care about your heart and how you feel. i honor what you honor though, even if i don’t honor it (unless you honor harm and then i retract my honor and focus on the medicine). i am not about obtaining gold stars of strength anymore, i am about nestling into silver baths of vulnerability. showing up in this messiness is the strength. hairy and emotional is this person i am. animal is this experience. flawed is this heart. open is this being.