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. 

raw as an oyster without a shell left on a hot crowded sidewalk…

didn’t blog yesterday. forcing it today. this is new, all of my blogging resistance. perhaps it is mars in cancer causing me to want to hide all the time and not express myself. yesterday i worked at home and not a cafe. this has been the new trend. cafes are annoying me because they are so crowded. my hood is packed all the time now. like a mini new york city. i don’t enjoy it. i stay here out of familiarity and that’s thing…my true self hungers for a sense of home. the hill is the only sense of home i know in this area. i need stability here a little while longer. i am open to moving elsewhere and making home in a more serene area that is less city, but i don’t know where. could be just up the hill or further. i have been in my studio in the city thick, for six years come july. it’s hard to leave the only familiarity i have right now. but again, i am open. went to birthday party in west seattle and sat in a real backyard with trees. loved it. got a huge love affair with trees. would love to live in a home with a backyard. can’t afford it unless i have roommates or a partner. don’t want roommates. but maybe i should be open. i want access to trees or water. either that or i want a really nice apartment way up high so i can merge with the sky. well, we can’t always get what we want but if we try sometimes we just might find we get what we need. cliche. the yearning for a home that is peaceful, modest, quiet, serene, with a back yard…yeah, that might be my biggest longing. my longing for a partner holds just as much power. these things i talk about all the time. it’s mars cancer again, increasing my drive for for home and my beloved, right now. oh. but i really don’t have the energy to long or dream for what is not present, specially chronic soul hunger. i only have the energy to amplify what is in my life now. my fascination with jung and the shadow. my creative side. been making a lot of art since removing emotional eating from my behaviors. nothing i need to sell or show as a great artist. what a relief to be free of that drive. making art for healing and the joy of making art is all i care about. it’s pouring out of me and my favorite activity, my biggest love affair. nothing will ever replace it. i am without false refuge right now as intense life transitions occur. no eating of my feelings. no escaping or avoiding. no hiding away in personas that help me to avoid. i feel so raw. so raw….

the sweet ones and imagination…

thinking about…feeling…the nature of reality. how many dimensions are existing at once. our consensual reality focuses heavily on the third dimension which is observable by the five senses. there is so much more. we don’t even really know what reality is, hence the need for religion and science (another religion in the extreme) to claim reality and pin it down to reduce fear toward the expansive mystery of all that is. i am dipping my mind into the mystery for renewal and replenishment. i don’t want to box in what reality is. i need the mystery to feed me. been seeing my own boxes. like with this research paper, how i think there is only one way to write it. where’s the creativity? when fear is present, creativity runs for the hills. i see it in myself and my humanity. i don’t wanna participate in the narrowing of my heart and vision. hence, i am listening to hella binaural beats and cleansing my body, mind, and heart of the fear that comes with expectations on myself. i realize i have two allies in my heart that are shadowy, even though they are now revealed. one feels incapable and broken. the other is pissed off at the overlords and patriarchal system entrapping everyone. when they get together a fire blazes in my heart that wants to burn me down. i remember i have chosen to infiltrate and not escape. i realize to heal i must love the anger until compassion floods my heart for everyone and everything (this is my tao of healing: love). love and choice meet insecurity and anger, not like missionaries or new age marketing gurus or anything bullying and fear based….but like beings of wonder and acceptance. if i name all these parts i would call anger, angie. insecurity, ingrid. love, callista. choice, janet. so…janet and callista meet up with angie and ingrid, who are hanging out in a cafe smoking cigarettes and drinking too much coffee, gabbing away about the ills of the world and how life has drained them of their dreams. callista and janet walk into the bohemian dilapidated cafe. janet is wearing all black with big stones hanging around her neck. callista is wearing something flowey, feminine, and magenta. they sit at the table with angie and ingrid, who are both wearing jeans, combat boots, and faded old t-shirts. callista and janet don’t make any fuss about the smoke or dreary talk, but instead listen with interest and caring. wait, this is going to become too long if i write this out here in blog and i got to get ready for internship…so more later. it was fun to go into the imagination, i need more of it. i read a paper my friend in the program wrote and it was so creative. i got inspired. i want to make each moment creative. i want to approach the shadow with mystery, wonder and joy. i love confronting my shadow. in fact, i would not call it confronting. i would call it meeting. meeting with pleasure. the sky is blue outside and i think it’s supposed to be beautiful and warm out today. i will be indoors but maybe i can get outside for a few hours in the evening time. i am feeling urged to appreciate every moment. who knows when the moments will change and these days will seem like the sweet ones.

notes from the river styx…

yesterday was the new new moon, being a new moon in aries. i see it like the heart’s new year, since the moon is the heart and aries is the first sign of the zodiac. was feeling lethargic all day and evening until the exact time of the new moon and then the energy switched to something more connected and clear. the heart’s new year begins with me being fully loving with my shadow parts. not trying to change them, only loving and giving voice to them because by doing that, they change all on their own. it’s like sunshine entering a pattern of grey days every day. it’s like seattle trying to be spring. is spring really here? will i really be wearing short sleeves soon? time to start jogging again. time to shave the legs again. time to….to…i dunno. grad school sort of takes away the natural cycles. the direct client hours i need are pretty high. too high, in my opinion. means i cannot really take any days off, besides the few i have for one trip to see my folks. i am a better guide when i don’t have to hustle. wondering about dietary changes again, what would be beneficial. i think instead of removing dairy, i will add juicing, and see what happens. made a spinach, apple, orange, and acai berry juice for dinner last night. juicing for dinner feels right. boring to read this, i am sure. the aries moon has me feeling like a little kid too. made a crystal grid last night and realized how fun it is to do so. desires to play are strong. did not feel the focus for school work like i was hoping. will try again tonight. it’s really hard this year. internship takes it out of me. i think the grad school blues are pretty natural though. i am lucky to be in the school i am in, and even luckier for my cohort and staff. not much to say, writing only to write. wish i did, wish i might, wish upon a star tonight. intense dreams last night i hardly remember but i remember the essence. denial. denial might be the theme of the first part of my life. it’s funny to think about how if we did not have emotions, there would be no life meaning, no suffering, no dreams come true, no falling in love, nothing of these sorts. these sorts are all emotional experiences. without emotions we’d be robots propagating the species and making things without any content to any of it other than what logic says. but even logic is emotional when you think about it. for all we know, life is complete chaos but because we desire logic to provide us with a safe structure to see the world and ourselves through, we put rational meaning to everything. we see what we believe. we see logic. i guess what i am trying to say is, if you think what you see and experience is objective, you are most likely fooling yourself. but don’t mind me, i am from hell. i am pan. i am the underworld’s eyes. i see life through divine chaos. oh don’t be afraid. i am not talking about the christian version of hell. their version of hell is some scary nightmare filled with fire and pitchforks. i would never step foot into their hell. i am talking about nature’s hell. the place where the rejected and denied feelings go. the unconscious. the dark rich fertile soil of creation. where the river styx flows and lily pads scatter across. masquerade balls are held in the castle with no king or queen each night. all are welcome…so long as who you are is not seen but only felt…

thursday blurbing…

another icy cold blue morning. another deep heavy night’s sleep with intense dreaming. my brain hurt yesterday from letting in too much into my third eye, which has led to an investigation of unconscious content inside my head. is the gate too wide open from having my voice and boundaries stolen in the past? have i made a soul vow to do healing work too intense for one human to handle? where are the discrepancies between action and feeling? let the sleuthing begin. looking at apartments wondering where i will move and when. in the throws of inner tornados. helpful when helping others on the outside of this skin, but don’t avoid what’s inside. burning jasmine and agarwood incense. true self bound and committed. catching up with an old friend. snippets is all this brain wants to handle. needing a break from social media. needing to take time to feed the soul hunger and let the fixer and doer rest. snow capped mountain reminding me of how long linear time is. long long long. we got eons and if we destroy the human race, earth has eons and whatever gets destroyed, so be it. the sanctuary of allowance and letting go. surrendering into the flow. opening heart to what is presenting with fervor and release. left brained calling to write about human rights and toxicity within institutions. needing to climb the mountain and also needing to swim in the deep sea. making meaning out of each moment of living. making art seems so far away now. i wonder when i will return? how long can i allow my brain to hurt? maybe the solution just arose? maybe i need to make art to soothe the pain. how many times must i learn this…again and again and again…

tales from chakra two…

the sky is silky lavender grey this morning, blending in with the white and grey mountains diffused by the clouds but still visible. the buildings look dishwater brown against nature’s silvery hues. they also seem damp and stuck. maybe it’s the taurus moon weighing me down like an anchor. slept long and deep with strange dreams that are quickly escaping my memory. wait, don’t go. (but they are going.) i wanted to dream of my true love but he aint showing his face, not even to my dreams. every time i use the term true love i feel like a child, as if i am talking about santa. i know the term is one of poetic endearment when speaking in terms of fate. i also know true love is an art piece to be consciously created if i get the opportunity to partner with a man who also wants to consciously create a relationship. this relationship my heart and soul desires is not natural by any means. in fact, i think monogamy is probably the least natural way to relate according to biology, in my perception of life. but my soul desires it completely. i am not one of those all natural types anyhow. i don’t desire to have sex with more than one man and i don’t desire to have more than one emotional relationship with a man. this is not a moral decision or an unconscious one. it’s the decision based on how i choose to create. one is all i want and need. but if you want more, go for it, i don’t care. if you want to believe in jesus as god of no god or satan as god, go for it, i don’t mind. just don’t fuck with people’s human rights and we wont have an issue. but i have spewed this sentiment a million times. my freedom loving soul is weary from sentiment and spewing. what does freedom want this morning? space to allow the new in. receptivity. openness. new ideas. new visions. new love. creative sparks. still have not painted in months and now i am outta paint and canvas. what to do? buy more with the money i don’t have? i know how to be resourceful so no excuses! why do i resist? a friend asked me if i wanted to do art with her sometime and my first inclination was no. who am i? a big chunk of me is missing right now and i know this. but it will return, always does. painting is as solid as tarot and writing. in the meantime i have discovered ballet workout videos on you tube and love this new way of mind-body connecting. yoga has trained me for this and it’s more artistic and elegant and i am digging it. something new for the body to learn. more than anything, this hunger inside is for the new. aha! i just recalled one of my dreams. i was in florida, accidentally walking around in only a white sports bra and nothing else, feeling very embarrassed. classic anxiety dream but why florida? childhood memories? warm tropical locale? cause my friend lives there who was just visiting? in the dream i felt off. have i been feeling off? maybe…..maybe i have….

new years day foggy babble…

was asleep by 11:30 last night. didn’t care about new years eve-ness. don’t like to party and never have i related to the “woohoo” feeling. actually, i was still falling to sleep by midnight and heard everyone woohoo along with the booming of fireworks going off somewhere downtown. made me giggle a little, due to the predictability of the manufactured nature of holidays. midnight is here, time to look at lights in the sky, yell woohoo, feel sad if have nobody to kiss or happy if you do, blah blah blah. iconoclastic me. let me balance out the scales by saying that rituals are a beautiful aspect of human nature and there is nothing wrong with enjoying them. i enjoy ritual too but just not the rituals fed to me by culture. this does not make me any better or worse than anyone else. i am not on any mountain tops. only expressing my feelings is all. you have your feelings. we are a bouquet of feelings. talked with kyle all night and we did engage in new years eve ritual by making long drawn out beautiful deep toasts to the year ahead in between our endless dialogue. a thick fog is rolling into the city right now and i love it. the buildings are barely visible through the milky silky beauty of the fog. fog is one of my favorite things. suddenly a vision: me living in a house where often i walk into the back yard early at dawn to watch the fog as i drink a cup of coffee. talk about luxury. wow, the fog has smothered the visibility of the buildings now. out my window i see only a wash of bluish-white. mystery. burning jasmine incense and happy to wake up early enough to catch this. though it is not that early. eight thirty. the fog reminds me of my year ahead, walking into the unknown, becoming a new person again. can i embrace the mystery? yes, i want to embrace the mystery. i want to be soft like fog too. my craving for softness feels as vast as fog. a craving to write something not for school, long, creative, and vast encompasses me. i forget how to do that. been since 2014 since i wrote any length of fiction past five pages. feeling like a hermit. the desire to move away from culture more and more. the desire to spend more and more time writing. this is the longing for home. to have a stable base from which to write from. no more cafe writing. i am weary from the city. i wonder if this feeling will last? i want space so bad. my work will keep me connected to those i help while my other work needs hermitage to write in order to give back. seized by the desire to work. i love to work, i guess, but my work is fulfilling because it is creative and filled with love. i feel lucky to be this michelle creature. i get to be this michelle creature. you get to be you. we are being these separate creatures here on earth. puts me in awe. the fog is reducing my thoughts down to basics and opening up the mystery inside of the basics. i feel amazed by this life…