(morning thoughts, in no particular order)
oh, the muddle-through.
the thick soup of brain fog and hormones and wet ocean air in june.
the ecstasy one moment and the ensuing crash.
the dark thoughts, the observer of the dark thoughts, the judgement and the release of the dark thoughts.
the crazy, the sane, the sensitive, the resilient.
i am that high-alert, that settled-in, that always-has-been-and-still-surprised.
i am the scale of heaviness and the fullness of being.
i am the gluten-free and the cake.
i am the new way and the old habit, the matured and the just-born.
here we go again and this time, no more.
how can i re-frame this moment? how can i greet it, kindly, and offer it, at knife-point, a chance to shift shape?
sometimes it is as simple as hauling the madness up the mountain and challenging it to a sweaty dual. it rarely makes it to the top.
sweet relief comes in my lover’s kiss, my teenager’s sarcasm, the absurdity of the trumpet flowers. in sleep, in tincture, in the star-scape that lives behind my eyelids.
one thing for sure, the helpers and the instigators. i know now which hands to hold.
i prefer the ones who admit to striving for the same thing: pattern-breaking, vulnerability muscles, the haven from not-enough.
it is fuzzy territory–self-inquiry, self-care, self-indulgence. service and community. sacrifice, benevolence, and lost-in-other.
separation, fusion. suffering, refuge.
my tenderness, your guard. my tactic, your move.
coolness. trend. alchemy. pattern. grace. shred. rebel. belong.
Since nothing actually exists except You,
Then why do I keep hearing all this noise?