there is something happening in myself and in the women in my community. we are finding freedom. claiming it. in relationship. in creativity. in the heart. there is mindfulness and revelry; and a lot of prayers. but we are not grasping. instead we are holding on. trusting the hold. spinning in it. in ourselves, in each other, in the world of fate and risk.

in love.

we, i, am learning, experiencing, and practicing the movement that freedom offers. surrendering to the altered state of centrifugal force. stillness in the circle. and enjoying the most exhilarating ride.

tell me about you?

i am finding this monday me assignment more and more challenging each week. especially the self-portrait part. today i find it nearly impossible. i am faced with telling the truth of a consuming, human wound that i really don't entirely understand the underneath to, only the experience of. the feelings. the thoughts. and they are this:

physically, i am having a heartbreaking experience with my own reflection. with the package, the container, the face staring back at me. it is as if a lifetime of smaller experiences are compounding into one massive fiery pot begging to tended to, boiled, simmered, and evaporated. it is painful. i am not happy with what i see. what i see looks inflated, droopy, pallid, thick. more so than ever in my life. i want to feel free from this zipper suit, this puffed up sand-bagged
balloon feeling that weights me to this earth. i catch myself setting
deadlines, events or travel plans in upcoming months where i imagine
that i will have transformed by.  future times that i can completely enjoy because
i will be free of this burden. i will have magically unzipped the outer
layers and stepped out as an agile lithe lightbeing.

but i know better. this body is a guide. a teacher. and i've yet to receive all that i can from it.  i think this darkness, this heaviness, literally and metaphorically,
is grief. lifetimes old grief. sadness for having gone through this in so many incarnations. of having spent so much of this life feeling like i was a layer
or two away from truly living. as an other. outside. turning the gaze
outward because taking in my own physical reflection was way too much to process.
and the past moments that i have lived in a body that felt like an accurate
reflection of my true essence were brief, because i feared what it
would mean to fully manifest my most expressed self.

i am surrounded by visions and examples of the lightness of being. open, courageous, feminine soul mates who look into my eyes and tell me how much beauty they see. new ones and old ones. i have always been profoundly blessed this way. and the amazing thing is that i believe them when they say these things. i gaze back and well with tears and some lifetimes-old part of me agrees and owns the power and the radiance that i am told that i posses.

i am practicing staying present. making choices that reflect love and not punishment. recognizing and connecting with healers who will play a role in the transformation that is coming. and i am letting the sadness be. letting go the attachment to future, to later, to "when". there is forgiveness involved. and a heart-opening like i've never felt before.

the weight is a doorway to freedom. it has returned, despite any obvious "cause," to turn my attention toward the opportunity to make peace. and this is me knocking. with two fists.