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Five
Five days. 120 hours. 7200 minutes. 432,000 seconds. Every single one sparkles. Bright diamonds dripping from rain-soaked skies. Plans have been made and intentions cast. Five days is enough to create worlds, to transform, to move into the shifting sands of a new perspective. Five days of delicious immersion, of experimentation, of creation, of trying on some What Comes Next. Five. Yes, it’s as if what I have been asking of the universe is appearing. Tangible. Touchable. Taking me places I never knew yet somehow always knew I wanted to go. Today my tangible-touchable and I walked through a neighborhood, moving into and through hypothetical someday worlds. I breathed in…
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Trick
One of my biggest fears is that the world in my head will become too distanced from reality. That it’s a trick somehow. That I am making everything up, creating glittering but empty circus worlds from my copious imagination. That one day those worlds will implode, come crashing down on me, and that I’ll be left with nothing but the wide space inside my thoughts, a vast empty plain where the lonely wind blows night and day. Whoosh. In these times I look for someone to blame for the feeling of dread that comes from touching into the dead emptiness of my fear, but I know deep inside that I…
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Closure
I came to Tucson, the dry desertland, just over a week ago not really knowing why I was here save for the fact that I had bought an airline ticket and there were people expecting me. Gem and Mineral Show? Well, yes, and I walked endless rows of jewelry, beads, gemstones, minerals, fossils, and tchotchke, none of which I needed, though I do now have 20 extra pounds of stone people to bring home and share. But other than that? No idea why I was here. And I resisted being here. Cactus. Bah. Mostly I felt lack. My heart has been elsewhere. My thoughts have not been on the face…
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T + D
Time and distance. I know a place in a forest where there is a gateway to other times and other places. Step through the invisible shimmering curtain and the tall trees feel 10,000 years older, transported suddenly across the globe to somewhen. I’ve been to this place several times. Each time it felt nearly the same. Magic. Time is a funny thing. I observed nearly two months ago (!) that time had slowed down, stretching into exquisitely endless golden hours. It hasn’t changed since then. Time still moves luxuriously. Languidly. Taking its own sweet time. Seconds drip into hours. Worlds are created in a breath. There is always enough, yet…
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Embracing
What is it they say? If you don’t like how you feel, change the way you think. I’ve been in a dry desertland this week, far away from where and how I wanted to be. I have focused on the lack, the missing, of feeling out of sync with my surroundings. It felt wrong, this hard brown world. My eyes and heart are nourished so deeply by the soft greens and blues of my watery forested home. This dry bare place felt alien, foreign, spiky. My heart dried up and blew away with the tumbleweeds. I breathed dust. My brittle bones cracked and broke. I slid into an abyss that…
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Gestation
According to the Mayan calendar, February 10 begins a new 260-day cycle. That’s nine lunar months, folks. Which means that it’s a time ripe for creation, since whatever is begun now will bear fruit at the end of October. I love marking time. Taking note. Taking stock. Tuning in. Setting intent. It feels very much to me that there is yet another beginning coming my way, perhaps not a beginning as such but a mindful intensifying. I am seeing and feeling this on many levels. I feel the future, or some potentials that haven’t happened yet that I interpret as the future, and it feels good to state outwardly what…
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Rhythm
There is a sweet spot somewhere and I mean to find it. Not that I haven’t been enjoying the exquisite contrast between hyper-aliveness and the seeming vacuum created when not in that state, but somewhere along that spectrum is a place of balance. I suspect a rhythm may emerge, an expression of the juxtaposition of longing, desire and logistics, but it hasn’t happened yet. It may never, not to my complete satisfaction. Instead I [try to, sometimes grudgingly maybe] content myself with looking for the patterns of rhythm that are already evident. Yes, I have a thing for patterns. And noticing. Yay me. Here’s one: input input input input input…
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Crossing
I’m on a bridge. It spans the Here and the There. The Where I have been and the Where I am going. The There, in my mind, soul and heart, has a look and feel that is palpable. Yet I am also open to manifestations of the entire laundry list of supplications-to-the-Universe that apparently I have been compiling — for years and maybe since even before that — that I can’t yet get a feel for. And that’s okay. The bridge is here and I am on it. Crossing over, slowly sometimes, perhaps even too slowly at times for my Impatient Self Who Feels the Future, but crossing. One breath,…
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Perfect Magic
There is a boundary between the worlds. I know, because I have been there. Crossed it. Danced at its edge. Sang it songs. Breathed in the fire. Approaching magic can be a little like approaching a wild animal. Breathe too quickly, too loudly, and it coyly disappears into the mists, trailing its song behind it. But if you’re too wary, too uncertain, too unlike yourself, it vanishes entirely. Approaching magic has to be done with, well, magic. Magic attracts magic. 1 + 1 = 3. I know all this because I have been there. The wet wild woods of the Olympic Peninsula enveloped me in its embrace, leaving me gasping…
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Odyssey
It’s a cruel blow to find out that you’ve been hiding something from yourself, perhaps for years, and that you have — intentionally, mind you — set up minefields, mazes and mirrors in order to avoid getting to the bottom of the whatever-it-is that eludes you. Not that any of this is a surprise, but I am just good enough at what I do, just skilled enough at self-discovery, to trick myself into thinking I have Done Good Work and as a result, veer off course from going deeper into what lies beneath. A lot of the anger I feel as a result — TRICKED! — is at myself. Self,…