stream of early morning…

woke up at 4:47 am even though i went to sleep at 11:30. popped out of bed like a corn kernel on a hot pan. listening to the rain tap the windowpanes. winter has arrived. a sinking in my stomach. the veil is thin. a left over cardboard sign that reads “no exit”. the karmic bind between she and this life. she and he. she and the faces that she meets. tasks to be accomplished each day toward an unknown end date that makes itself too clear in this decade of years when death is a constant taste on the lips. make each moment the most important thing. effulgent moment. ordinary moment. the little girl inside behind the eyes of the woman is seeking. tenderness. safety. security. spirit would not tell her this but mind on it’s golden throne wants to be all, “security is an illusion, get over it.” fuck that shit. where is the middle? i am walking toward it but not losing what is wrong and right as i travel. not losing the distinct difference between yes and no as i learn to say maybe so. focusing on the negative, fear, rigid, crusted, worn out ways of avoiding intimacy parade in support of the old kingdom….but fall into the sea and drown. the old kingdom sinks into the ocean while the new kingdom erects itself on the sandy shore wondering if it too, will be washed away. kind of like a baby turtle. a new government is in place. who is the ruler? love. who is the queen? the little girl behind the woman’s eyes…she is wise. hashtag wisechild. get out of the mind by climbing into the imagination, knowing the senses exceed five. love the sweet creature. a journey has begun with no preconceived last page. i pay attention to the needs like i am taking care of a rare breed. there there, broken little girl who wants to be made whole by my love. i am making you whole, count on it. what gets broken in relationship must be healed in relationship. lack of attunement early on made ambivalence birth from sensitive hearts. linguistic survival. too foreign or scary to think you could be heard without being cryptic or manipulative. you gotta love the sentences that string along (or pull the strings of) the one you love, leaving a trail so they are forever trying to find you because those sentences once protected you from a prevailing lack and scheduled attack. my ambivalence in my shadow beneath the light of my sureness, wants to evade having to mend a broken heart….again. we all play tricks on ourselves and each other. we are all animals with hearts pretending to be tough because of what we are taught. inclusion. the way dawn woke me up with tender fingers. the black sky not yet ready to host the sun. my deep undying love for everyone. keep going after it. possess the result. be uncomfortable because you cannot rely upon it while being comfortable in the good feeling that keeps on happening. then…when it feels bad, hold that little girl again. so easy to bring comfort to the fear with a little affection and a few words of direction. feels simple looking in the rear view mirror. it is only looking forward where a fuzzy landscape is unable to provide the clarity that could erase the quest and turn it into a predetermined outcome, free of mess. embrace the mess. sometimes she deluges. sometimes there are tests. don’t know till it happens. my intentions are best. not one sign post from the past exists in this love, except the one that says “be yourself” and trust. you got this. you know how to fall if you do and rising is the new that may blossom if you allow it to. love is a feeling deeper than emotions that pass through like weather. love installs itself as an archetype, a vision, a dream, and a home. there is no going back once it awakens…

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.

ode to the practice and repetition…

tired pms morning after a restless night’s sleep and not ready for monday. a lot of hard news came to me in the past few days. news of death and illness from friends about them or loved ones in their life that i do not know. this heart is shadow and light all the way right now. glad i spent three days completely alone and working. needed it so badly. yesterday i ran into ruby at the book store and wound up joining her for part the half day retreat at vajra healing center. felt so fucking good to meditate with others in that peaceful space. afterward i came home and did an afternoon yoga practice, which i never do. meditation made me crave yoga. i realized i have finally passed into the stage where yoga feels as good as eating. it gives me a dopamine hit. meditation gave me a dopamine hit too. after delving into gabor mate’s in the realm of hungry ghosts i am thinking about (or feeling out) the hungry void in me that seeks replacements for the deep down childhood anguish. my addiction has always been food. even in my days of excessive drinking, it was never connected to the void of anguish inside. food was/is. food gives me the dopamine hit of love. anyhow, for yoga to make it into the same category of food is an accomplishment. it’s taken three and a half years for this to happen. or wait, four and a half? i don’t recall if i began my disciplined practice in 2013 or 2014? since then, i have only gone one month (recently) where i was down to only two days a week of yoga. otherwise, i have practiced 3 to 6 days a week, regularly. it is this regular practice that changed my entire life and continues to do so. i do yoga at home now cause i like it better. if i can add meditation to the discipline, completion. it is the daily work that makes all the difference, i have learned. i used to live in a dream world, unregulated, all over the place, uncentered, thrashing around, my will disconnected from my my heart, my mind disconnected from my body. yoga connected my will to my heart and my mind to my body and now i live centered and in reality. reality being what is here right now before me and what is within me, with me as true self awake in the center. the humbling part is if i stop doing yoga, this all goes away. no different than if i stop brushing my teeth they will turn yellow and get cavities. it is ALL about the practice. humbled by this. self love has taken years to feel but i can say that, although i still can be overly critical of myself and get trapped by the “not good enough” vow at times, self love is solid. how did that happen? i would also say it is the regular practice. repetition truly is magic…

scorpio moon saturday babbling…

finding incredible peace being alone and working. i really needed to not socialize or interact and just read my book and write my paper. it soothes and nurtures me to work these days. funny but it’s true. the quiet and focused structure feels good. my introverted and intellectual aspects are being fed and this is calming down the passionate longing and fearful animal that must surrender and trust right now in life. or maybe always in life. i look forward to graduate school being over and being able to use this energy to write my next book. i have learned discipline a second time around (first time is when i wrote my first book). this time around, discipline has become more of a comfort than a push. when life is scary, work is an anchor. being alone is not being alone, it’s a return to source, to oneness, to the sanctuary of spirit. doesn’t need to be religious or mystical in nature. spirit is everything. mercury is retrograde and i feel it hard-core. it’s as if the external world is connected to me only lightly. the stress of the growing racist white nationalist voice in this country is a call to stand against. i will do so with love. just letting the words flow. weird dreams last night. cheeseburgers were involved. and my work place. the sky is blue and moon is scorpio today. leo sun and scorpio moon, this is opposite my friend’s signs. i suppose the fact that it is leo season, leo eclipse, leo new moon means making it all about “me” is the key. sometimes we are each in our own universe and the storylines of the individual do not live in the collective narrative. it feels very much like this right now. i don’t feel i am in the same movie with my friends and family. i feel each of us inside our own narrative. sometimes it is between you and god, goddess, nature, universe, ram, whatever word you use to describe the higher power. i am tuned into this frequency right now as it feels like leo’s version of mercury retrograde. a sacred time to check in with your personal narrative with spirit. my narrative has a lot of shadow elements rising up. i am honoring and releasing the shadow anger, envy, fear, sorrow, worry, confusion, and lust i feel so that it does not solidify into identity. i am releasing shadow into the basin of the goddess, into the core of the earth, the middle of sea. i keep wanting to work with the dragons. life is so friggen chaotic and yet the order inside of chaos is apparent. i am surrendering into the order inside chaos. we are always held and loved by mysterious spirit…

teensy update…

time crunch. two papers due in two weeks. back to the practical now that the emotional eclipse week is closing. a lot is going on in my heart. cancer, money, papers, home, summer ending, fall’s busy next four months. longing for my man. this country. prejudice and racism. feeling scared to wear the jewish star my mom and i bought. scared to type the words that i am scared. a lot of fear. necessary choices over dream choices. the break-down of it all. the illusion and dissolution. too much on the plate of the heart. not a feast or famine. a ravished table. a blue sky. longing longing longing. present moment. doing laundry and typing keys. listening to binaural beats. gonna read and write all day and night, not be social at all. get it done. solitude, the medicine today. feeling the need to be all alone to focus. feeling the need to start a new painting too. maybe i will today. hard to think about exercising. seems hard to push my body right now. blah, boring, heart cannot share what is rich. private mercury retrograde feelings reeling through…

notes and a painting from the eclipse….

haven’t blogged in days. almost forgot about blogging as a something i do regularly. speaks to the kind of week it has been. the eclipse took me for a ride so intense. right before, i was light light light. felt the beauty and gifts in everyone around me and was doing the positive talk thing i do in a sort  of hyper, maybe slightly obnoxious fashion. the eclipse arrived and i got to see it with the glasses a clinician brought and shared with everyone. wonder, stillness, surreal, magic. all the fuzzy feelings. until about an hour later. i am breathing like i am having a panic attack and i feel the most tender sorrow enter my heart. i wish to crawl inside the earth like a mole and hide. tea and binaural beats from friends are offered and i am able to stave off the sickness and emotional sensitivity within a few hours and get back to what i do. but once home, it hits again in the form of nausea. all i can do is plop on the couch until bed. wake up, do yoga, feel nauseas again and notice a mysterious bruise arrive on arm and not sure how. scary bruise. i freak out but know i am freaking out. then a tidal wave of sorrow mixed with fear hits. sorrow for not being with my man. fear for being alone. overwhelm for the intense state of transition i am going through and feeling no sense of home. the animal feels devastated and terrified. beyond consolation. i paint it out. cry it out. have a convo that ignites deeper sorrow cause i feel shame and unseen…or…the archetype feels shame and unseen. the sorrowful fallen angel archetype within is much bigger than me. the archetype is my ancestors and it seeks to be heard, honored, and loved. it considers running into the safety of an ashram because life feels too painful. i am reminded to give space for the archetype to have her voice. this calms her. then i am given a shamanic healing spontaneously by a friend. i send my ancestors back through the veil. it is too much to be their avatar. i call upon an etheric avatar to be a bridge between me and my ancestors. i come into the full present moment, paired down, sparse, simple, five senses. i touch the hand of my man on the etheric level. i really feel him and so does my shamanic friend. he is gentle, kind, and my soul connects to his music completely. i feel calmed and centered. the sorrow lifts. i am reminded that by choosing nourishing romantic love, i heal my ancestors. back home i chill out and feel back to myself. the archetype has receded back into the unconscious again. we talked about how the archetypes live through us as shattered parts of oneness that came into being when soul incarnated into form. the archetypes collect story after story of pain and subjugation as they move from body to body and life to life, invisible to the five sense but the foundation of every human animal. there are joyous archetypes too but it is important to give lots of space for the pain to speak, be validated, and receive love. she gave the archetype the love it needed this time around and she reminded me of sacred regulation: one thing at a time. next morning i feel back to center. my gums ache though. the animal is still tender and lost a bit. the veil that opened during the eclipse, allowing all the energies of the universe in on all dimensions, is closing again. slowly closing. i still feel disoriented. i had nightmares last night about being constantly watched and having no freedom or agency. so much is emerging for healing. mercury is retrograde. the words feel stuck but the heart feels open. we all need love. i am giving love to myself and i also feel oddly disconnected from others. i feel like we are all in our own bubbles right now. or maybe it is just me in my own bubble of regeneration, in the deep. the energies are shifting continually though. i will emerge from the cave soon. this eclipse is no joke. it’s huge. been so emotional and uncomfortable going through this. but that’s ok. i do it for me and for us. i do it for the love we are.

here is the painting i made:

eclipse.jpg