softness and the tender call…

rough adjustment back to seattle. caught a virus. got home late and woke up early for work the next day feeling tender, sleepy, and needing solitude. but i was ok for the most part. sometimes nurturing comes from within. or often. i nurtured myself with a virus that took me to the couch all evening after work. couch, hulu, incense, quiet. still in my same ole apartment. still not knowing where to go next. my dad feeling loneliness in my absence and my mom having rough chemo days weighing on my heart. how hard it is to make the decision to stay in seattle. i wonder if i am doing what is right? sometimes the tenderness is not shared by anyone. i wish it was but i feel it on my own, deep inside. nobody to sink into softness with. it’s all salt on the outside. salt, earth, fire. being grounded, strong, and courageous. i crave softness, tenderness, and sweetness. i crave to be sitting on blanket on grass with my beloved on a crisp fall day, listening to the sound of the breeze traveling through trees. it’s the little things. my fire is low this week. water rises inside of salty earth. i am an untapped well. autumn is suddenly here. that’s a big deal. came home from sunny warm vegas to rain and chilly weather. using the space heater. wearing a jacket. needing to close the windows and turn off the ceiling fan. maybe this is the cause for the tenderness i feel too. i wish i could share it with you but the world is too gruff, too bootstrap, too abrasive, too independent. i feel a little bit angry too. anger in defense of the sacred. i want tenderness to have a place in this world of get up and go, get up and battle, get up and awaken, get up and heal, get up and deal, get up and get to work. it does in some circumstances. in session. when i am a healer. but the woman in me starves. the woman in me wears her armor and cape. the woman in me breathes fire and holds swords of truth in the wake of illusion. too much athena. too much sehkmet. too much air and fire. i might need to work my way out of this narrative and away from these elements. soft earth, share with me your story. these are watery feelings i am attempting to explain. where sea meets sand or grass meets lake is what i need. i call to the elements who never fail to show up…

plane blog

i am writing this from the plane. a baby cries on and off loudly in the seat in front of me but i have headphones on. i’ve created my own atmosphere filled with music and emotion. emotion like life flashing before my eyes but diffused. emotion like regrets bubbling up into the mind, tasting like champagne to the me i am now. does that make sense? i am letting go of trying to make sense. salt on my tongue and what song will be next? thinking of my parents. missing them already and happy to be returning to seattle at the same time. everything is a double feeling. not distracted by the need for one answer to clear away the sorrow. sorrow’s alright. sorrow’s beauty. health is alive, still. health is tenuous and mysterious at the same time. my friend’s band came on. her voice sings deep cryptic lyrics like this blog. sometimes logic fails to explain. express myself, gotta be and only me, baby. i know what i want and it aint cheap. what am i even saying? feeling groovy and thinking of the seventies. missing the life i never got to live. daddy holds baby in front of me. one hour or so left. maybe more actually. not wanting to think about time passing. be in the now, now. shoulder ache. smell of essential oils. grey atmosphere. humanity. a red heart with what should be wings extended from it, but instead i see four lines. lines like whiskers or robots. something subservient. small. untidy. the way we’ve been treated since birth. the systemic wound. pain deeper than any heart can handle. i bring love to it. amber and kyanite on the hands. no stories to cling to except the one i am choosing. free will is innovation. not false. not true. innovation. be something new. be somebody new. self possessed still needs to be caressed. new song. back to tegan and sara again. reminds me of the san francisco days. the way i wandered around lost after breaking my ankle and dropping out of grad school. that bright sun and the apple green parrots i was lucky to view twice. don’t move so slow, tegan and sara sing. am i moving too slow? taking lyrics to heart for some reason. sometimes it’s like that. music means more than logic. i just closed my eyes and faded away from this blog. time to end it as i listen to the twins sing, i can’t take it. or are they singing, i can take it? i can take it.

leo moon blah blah blahing

been in vegas. mom got results back that the chemo is killing the cancer. very good news. hope is restored. life is both strong and fragile. i am feeling almost too solid. where are the tears? my tummy has been swelled up like a full moon despite healthy eating. i am holding. i don’t know how to release. i am my own best trickster complete. the sun is bright on this slightly chilly morning. my dad’s night sweats stopped last night. i made the decision to stay in seattle. nothing feels wrong or right. i am simply making choices i know are best for me. it’s hard to put myself first but it’s the lesson. so many lessons. why is this the lesson? the lesson goes deeper than me. how many times can i say lesson on one blog entry? lesson lesson lesson, going deeper than me into the sacred well of the collective unconscious, into the divine feminine. for the feminine energy to come into balance with the masculine, she must rise up and put herself first. she won’t be saved. she will save herself. i am a little piece of the collective divine feminine. how do i know all this and what is knowledge? i know by a deep feeling inside. not an emotion, but a sixth sense feeling; intuition. what is knowledge? creativity, i think. i am listening to the creative voice of evolution whisper into my ear, telling me to differentiate. i am the planet’s holy child. i am a star bringing the human dream through my fingertips. we are all in this together. i am writing without thinking. the moon is in leo and i feel liberated from cancer moon’s tender feelings. what can i say? i treasure the fire. mom comes outside and we talk about the sadness of me leaving and can i live here? tears us both apart. sacrifice. i am unsure if i am doing what is right. back to that again. like the man i am mingling with, we don’t know what the connection is. how do you know anything? i know the spiritual things such as soul lessons because my intuition gives a strong yes. i don’t know the physical things like where to live and who to be in partnership with, the emotions are in flux and the intuition is silent. the lesson of knowing the physical things is discernment. maybe discernment opens up the intuition?  just because something feels good doesn’t make it right. being torn is only a mental story. my friend tells me to keep a curious mind. i am a curious explorer. i will know more later…

from the sea of the playful i create…

haven’t written in so long. may be the longest i have gone in five years? feels strange to return here, to this place called blog. so much has happened…on the inside. i have sunk deeper into what is present when the veil thins between the conscious and unconscious mind, or between the physical and etheric realms. in sinking deeper into the unconscious, i experience how much more playful life is here. in contrast, the realm of the ego or conscious mind…is serious as all hell. i feel both sides but i feel playfulness as a deeper root. this last stint with my cohort family at school was medicine. my teacher, with simply her presence, seems to lift the veil, allowing for deeper immersion into whatever she is teaching us. she showed us different methods of creating narratives, moving from the right to left brain instead of left to right brain. what a difference! to create a story from pictures and symbols is drastically different than to talk oneself into the story from the ego’s field. try it out. talk about what death means to you by just talking about it. next, go collect three objects in nature that call to you and from these three objects, tell the story of what death means to you. see for yourself what i speak of. this time at school, my emotional body was calm. i got rocked in a different way. my perception was transformed. i dove into the sea of mystery. the sea of mystery does not claim what things are. and so i explore without labeling or claiming. i am seeing what life shows me without possessing what i want or need. the right brain or unconscious part of me needs only to experience, to be, to play. there are no goals or linear time. this part of me is the artist and the lover, the dreamer and inspirer. the left brain or conscious part of me is the tender. i tend to souls including my own. i tend to goals. i tend to this body and my physical experience. i make sense of my experiences with logic and give my life meaning through creating a narrative like the movie of me. he said that feelings are only temporary and not to be trusted. this frustrated me. i wanted to explain how some feelings are constant. my feeling of love for art and music, the playful feeling of living in a body, the sorrow of loss, the anger toward injustice, and the joy for sunsets are examples. these feelings may ebb and flow in intensity but they never leave. they are permanently installed in this body. he fears not feeling the same for somebody as he does in the now, romantically. he fears his emotional changes. i understand that. i don’t know the experience of being in love with somebody over many years. i imagine into it and think that the feeling would ebb and flow but never leave if it’s the kind of love where a lifetime simply isn’t mutually long enough to share with a partner. or, the feeling vacates for me, for him, or for both of us. and so it is. i suppose i see the truth in this. you cannot control the tides. you cannot control feelings. i am not afraid of heart break or loss nor am i afraid to be the heart breaker if i am the one who no longer feels in love. i am self possessed. if i lose, i grieve and move on and if i have to be the one breaking the heart, i allow the other to feel the pain and move on. the benefit of being so self possessed is that it allows for me to experience a fuller spectrum without resisting hurt. i like that. i never did desire to live only inside one box of experience…

From a loud cafe playing Ozzie…

I’m writing this blog on my phone because it’s the only thing to pull me out of the exhausted haze I’m in. In a cafe to escape my apartment oven. It’s loud in here and I hate the noise. I don’t want to listen to Ozzie full blast among all the summer bodies, doors clanging, steem wafting…but I cannot escape. This is my life right here and now. Wailing Ozzie and the novel Steppenwolf that makes me sleepy when I attempt to read it, though I want to read it badly. It’s hard to focus in here and my mind hurts and I’m craving silence but outside feels sticky and hazy like my brain. Where am I? Come here, now. Now. Here. Humans with books, laptops, coffee, tea, beer, sandwiches, glasses and plates. Oh, moment, I’m sorry but I crave to be somewhere else. I don’t want this anymore. I want to be new and somewhere new. But I can appreciate this too. Air conditioning cools my balmy skin. Loud music sucks the sorrow out of me. I’m not up to my old stories again. The summer is dying. The old me is dying. My love is dying too. Old love, that is. The kind of love that hangs on to sand castles and travels like the wind. This heart that beats inside this skin is passionate and scarlet red. I couldn’t pretend to be anything less. Like the glowing neon R of the beer sign I see before me. Like the melting ice in the cold brew coffee I’m drinking. Wait. Melting ice is not passionate, not one bit. Melting ice is that other part of me speaking. I wish to melt away into nothingness. I am melting under Shiva’s fire. Ozzie is unconscious medicine. No edit on this one. Not even a read through. It is what is and I am see-through. 

death of the old narrative…

yesterday my parent’s thought their cat joey was dead or gone and mourned her in shock until the moment she sauntered out of the cabinet, hours later, as if nothing ever happened. there are so many metaphors to this experience. i thought my feelings for him had passed but they haven’t (can’t control the feelings). i have to be strong because i only will open my heart to the man who wants my heart and my true self. i am an emotionally available woman in search of an emotionally available man. how to live in grey areas? you must hold dual perspectives. you must also ditch the narrative that something is wrong. you must allow yourself to be messy and vulnerable. being strong means being tender. exploring the undefined because we share some mutual love, while at the same time, not allowing myself to create a false story. this is not wrong or right, good or bad. it is grey. the relationship i know i want is one in which two hearts find home in one another, are best friends, feel mutual attraction, share mutual values, where we both really like each other, and we are rooted in love. cement period. some things are certain. i am certain of what i want. i am uncertain how much i can dabble in what i do not want because of what feels good. i hold the dual perspectives of certainty and uncertainty, of light and dark, as i ditch the idea of wrong, careful to seek only availability. intimacy is scary and i welcome being scared with the man who wants to be scared with me. what hurts is not being wanted or chosen. what is challenging is to refrain from is, turning not being chosen into an “i am not good enough story”. what feels great is the mutual connecting. love is grey. i am living so many plan B’s right now. the grade A dreams are not manifesting but i keep discovering that plan B leads to a new version of plan A…as if life is telling me, “i know more about what you need than you do”.  i am learning to feel beauty in what manifests. even death, illness, loss, and confusion. the beauty of pain is in the rawness and vulnerability that awakens. i give but i contain. i am open and closed. i am making a pearl inside. earlier this week, shame for being me was sizzling through my nervous system. fear to be seen in the eyes of others was ablaze. embarrassment in every direction. kool-aid man busted through my wall and made me aware that i was being hard on myself. i realized it and then saw just how mean i was being to myself on many levels. the way i had been narrating my self was crappy. mean girl crappy. i stopped right away, allowing the mean narrative to slither back into the earth. i allowed shame to sizzle through my body, without giving it words or meaning, honoring the feeling. within hours, the shame dissipated, for i had discharged the energy of it by not giving it a story to cling to. there is another story that wants to emerge from deep inside. this story cannot come out if the shame story is in the way. i am devoting myself to this deeper story. basically, i am making room for new stories. new myth. the external world mirrors my internal world by being tenuous and strange, uncertain and surprising. no more heavily shellacked perceptions, except for the perception that love is all.

babbling about love and attraction on tuesday…

slept dodgy in the the yucky heat. restless legs. asmr videos on repeat. not much in the head. long nothing of a night in the soupy heat watching dumb crap on the internet. a night of nothingness. but i realized stuff earlier. new lessons rooted in balancing and adaptivity. seeing my mind try too hard to manage fear or forget to just sit and let the feelings breathe. how to live in such a high contrast black and white time when painful journeys weave into growth and joy? i don’t feel like writing about it. i don’t feel like writing. i am feeling drained from the mind to be honest. needing a break from all of the managing, fixing, understanding, analyzing. needing a yin break, dude. needing to let go of trying. needing to get on the mat again this morning. not really feeling the jogging. the night was intense but i don’t know why. when my alarm when off i was confused about time and place. one of those nights when i feel like my soul was taken away. gonna let the words topple out easier than i usually do and see what words come out when logic is not the glue. illusions crash. sexual attraction is dime a dozen. and it’s not about falling in love like a twenty something. it’s about two hearts that belong together. i know this but i don’t know whose heart i belong with. i am tired of all the old ways of going about it. i mean like, totally sick of it. i mean like, i don’t have it in me to see through the lens of the hungry animal. only through the soul. sometimes soul takes over. my soul it taking over. i was saying to them how some people are just super beautiful specimens, here to make everyone who sets eyes on them want them, have a crush, feel a spark, hope for a connection. it’s not special because they cause this feeling in eight of ten people who meet them and are sexually into their gender form. it’s as if they are the adonis or aphrodite archetype incarnate. i have some of these friends and have seen it in action. some people fall for it and think it is love. these people think love is about choosing somebody beautiful like a prize or possession. the hot ones get used the most. i do not want to be with a hot person. it would be too hard knowing my guy was making everyone want them instantly, by nature of their sex appeal. personally, i am a fan of imperfections and inner beauty that radiates into outward beauty, making the outward beauty something more unique. i have been often rejected for my body size by men and most of my friends would not choose to be with a person who carries extra weight. i think it’s too bad. i would choose it. carrying some extra weight means you know how to enjoy life. i want to be with the guy whose heart fits with my heart no matter what package his body comes in. if he turns out to be a totally hot thin man i will love him, even if i prefer a uniquely handsome guy with some extra weight on him, cause that is what i am. but i don’t need a twinsie. i just want real love, not somebody cute or powerful to possess, who makes me feel better about myself due to their image. sexual attraction, for me, has little to do with visuals. it has more to do with the heart and mind. a warm generous heart, wise soul, and intelligent mind with a good sense of humor will make me swoon much more than a beautiful shell. but the adonis shell can effect me too, if i need to be activated by one. i see them as humanitarians. sometimes you just need a little activation. these are my babbling rants. blah blah blah. the end…