The Day of Venus (IX)

There is no such thing as “one right way”, and there are infinite possibilities.

When a thought or idea comes into focus, if it is insistent on imposing a limitation or shortcoming of any kind, sharpen your knife and prepare to mold it into a delicacy. When it presents itself at your door, say “I’ll be right out” and ask it to have a seat on the porch swing. With a Resting Into Presence, mixed with the persistence of your most stubborn of angels, sit beside it and offer it The Simple Awareness of Yourself. Stay in your heart, take it lovingly by the hand, and Walk Yourself Home.

Your self-imposed “flaws” are Your Greatest Majesties, the very tools that free you. It is in honoring and acknowledging the totality of our experiences that we are unbinded. It is in glorifying the sensation of both light and dark within ourselves, that we are able to dance with the experiences we encounter in each moment.

Observing The Reality of Impermanence will create a resolution within you to really be in every moment as it comes. So I take note of the mauve-rose on my lover’s cheeks, in sync with the mug in her hand. I create a tapestry in my mind, of the way the brown of her eyes is the sun just beginning to be seen on the horizon. I take the moment in like it is the wisdom of a thousand pages. I take it in as A Painting to Remember to Paint one day.

There is only right here and right now. Nobody could ever convince me that “time is running out”–running out of what? <–(after I wrote this I asked myself out loud “What if time is really running in?” and cackled for at least 5 minutes I’ll have everybody know.) Anyway, right now I am in this skin, this room, beside a purple shawl one of my dearest friends gifted me, overdue library books, and Texas cedar ash. I see color, shape, shadow, light. I am here until I am there, and when I’m there I’ll be there too–tending to a fire, sleeping beside a creek, closing my eyes to see.

I am learning how to gracefully exit spaces 
where people seem a little too eager
to spit on the angels,
mock the messengers,
scrunch their noses and deny
the sacredness of even themselves.

There are things that are meant to be felt more than understood. I do feel there are things that when you strive to understand, you get further away from. It is when you loosen and let your body fall into the world–it is never as clear as then.

Everyone will want you to move—to tell the story as they see it should be told, offer you glasses to look through, tell you who to protect, who to follow, what to conceal, pave you a pretty little road—and you must stay right where you are.

The Day of Venus (Ⅳ)

Dreams don’t have collars or strainers–they are big chunks of cardammon and star anise in your teeth, so what do we do with that? We find a way to have it slide into and out of our mouths, and back into The Bowl.

Behind the words you say I want them to be true. I want the curtain to be drawn back to see the stage as you say it’s set. I want to float under the sky without caution, with my eyes meditating on the moon, in a harbor you’ve created. ~ I want the words I say to be as true as a curtain drawn to reveal the stage set exactly as I say it is set. I want to float under the sky without caution, the moon in my body, in a harbor I have created for myself.

Energy is transported, transmuted, transferred, received, given, and stored. But never lost, and never created without the alchemical process involving what has already been created.

Oh how the very things that break our hearts bring us closer to ourselves, closer to God.

It counts for something–your eyes giving squinty smiles to people passing by, the encouragement you give to a stranger in line at winco, the wise crack you exchanged with your coworker, the graceful departure, the supportive gesture, a note for your lover beside the coffee pot. The invisible work is the way you move in the world–not your title, your degree, or your craft.

I found a lion whispering in my stomach, no roaring for days. The quiver in my voice is what I banish, and I am learning to say it straight from my ribcage, and from the red of my womb.

I trust myself enough to follow the feeling of ecstasy to it’s end.

I reclaim time, by giving myself my time–playing my music, typing like this, paying close attention to what I am participating in, being selective, and re-directive.. How To Redirect Yourself: Draw attention to simple sensations that make you feel good about your world, yourself–start with the simplest of things such as the way the colors in the sky contrast, how orange the moon is, how soft the fabric is against your skin. Look at any distractive or destructive time thief of a thought and say ‘NO’ the way you would to someone about to step into oncoming traffic, then with relief take a hold of your shoulders and walk yourself home.

What I notice in another, is within me as well.

Your breathing is your own, is your messenger, is your teacher, is your anchor. I honed in on the pit of my stomach that feels like fire and I imagined it spreading through my body via my blood. I pretended to be a woven basket of tangerines and lemons next to the clothesline.

The fixation on one perspective is to be studied–catch it like a slippery fish–that moment where your mind is heading toward choosing an idea to look for within the words others say, the world itself

We create what we fixate on.

Free Fridays (III)

Writing is inviting a few monkeys into your home 
to do away with order, 
politeness, 
all of the value placed
on this stone, 
a gift, your prayer mat. 

I call upon a forgetfulness of my self. May it feel good coming out of me, and may it always be nothing more than that that matters. May I be alone with myself while welcoming in everything that comes to my door. Let it dance with me as it arrives, then take me home when it is time to.

Loss is on my mind, and I mean that in all ways loss exists--
the branches removed, 
the uprooting of the neighbors we got used to growing beside. 
The losses we remember, the losses we feel but cannot see.. 

Where should I be the loudest? The scaled and bloody and feathered within, sings louder and more gloriously reckless every day, in front of anyone near. From womb to wind, it arrives before my mind gets in the way.

“You are learning about you. And I am learning about me.” To love is to embody and witness sovereignty– welcome it, encourage The Right to Belong To Oneself–allow it to be. -On how many ways there are to love me

We should take time to study our minds while they are not being fed, 
gaze at what we are in the rhythm of feeding ourselves.
Play with what the patterns that exist within us
long to create
out of color, matter,
symbol, sound.