temple woman's prayer

Mother of Mothers
Immaculate Heart
Blessed One

hear me now.

shield, guide and protect your daughter.
guide me to the path that will feed my heart and soul.

protect me from those who can only see my body and its pleasures,
who would expressly use my power as their own.

bring me true love and affection.
give me, grant me the power to heal in other dimensions,
and the express choice to determine when i do it intimately.

may I nor any other daughter be forced into this position again, ever.
and those in the profession be protected and respected.

remind me, Sweet Mother, that my body is Your instrument, Your vessel.

I may not love all, but I can be compassion-filled.
where my legs stay closed, may my heart remain appropriately open...

thank You
for my beauty
the sway of my hips
my shape
my sensuality
my flirtatious, wild nature.

I love who You've made me.

strengthen my mind, heart and spirit.
remove all shame and doubt.

what You have bestowed, let no one rend asunder.

Ase.

mother sky

i hear you.

velvet sky dotted with diamonds, whispering secrets.

i'd thought your daughters claimed me;
they must have already known
i was your namesake.

i think i am
what i've always been,
but you stretch me into your infinite space
and tell me i belong
there.

i hear you.

a new connection...

as i experienced this, i didn't realize this:

Xochiquetzal was honored at a festival every 8 years. A young woman was chosen by artisans to impersonate the goddess; she would be sacrificed, flayed, and her skin given to a man to wear while pretending to weave. Artisans would dance around the scene and then confess their sins to a statue of Xochiquetzal through bloodletting. She was also one of the goddesses impersonated during the Toxcatl festival, ritually married to a young man and kept in luxury for a year before being killed.

was that vision an alternative version of the luxury before the sacrifice? 

...or is it possible my vision predates the days of sacrifice?

i've learned to question the histories we're left with, if for no other reason than many weren't articulated until the various conquerors came.  there are centuries to know before that; centuries lost to dirt, water, air and other powers.

sometimes our soul-memories are the realest ones. even if they are the least-believed.

naming

{a follow up to this}

almost a year ago, i found out that i was born on st. joseph's day. thus, one of my names could very well have been josephine...well, if we were catholic and all.

i've always liked that name. especially its french pronunciation.

i also dig some of the variations: jayzl and zefina stand out.

today i sought out the meaning: god will increase.

might have to find a way to incorporate that somewhere...

as above, so below: a written meditation

some of us are comets, shooting stars, and meteors, 
meant to flash briefly, beautifully across the sky.

others are stars: fixed, nearly timeless;
distant, but burning bright with exemplary fire.

there are also planets among us:
folks creating and sustaining entire ecosystems in and around ourselves.

the early passing of comets, shooting stars and meteors is painful, but natural. we must let them go, grateful we saw them shine.

it's important to sustain gratitude for the impressions our stars leave behind.  even as they die, they create something new in their wake. 

as for the planets, we must learn to sustain them as they sustain us--for although they appear immortal, they too can pass away.

selah

embodiment

i don't always recognize this package i'm in.

it feels smaller than it has in a long time--certainly the smallest since puberty. still, i'm aware that folks outside of me still consider me quite tall and decidedly not-small.

my body's become more utilitarian, lighter. i am carrying only what i need, no more. the proverbial fat has been trimmed away, even if i can still pinch decent finger-fuls of it around my torso and thighs.

this has happened slowly, almost silently; an unintended side effect of some very intentional work.

i do not find this lightness of being unbearable. instead, it's a phenomenal blessing.

return

this has been waiting
patiently
for me to sit still
and let it go...

to acknowledge
and name it
although
it defies description.

i could be staring down
the answers of a thousand prayers;

witnessing the drying
of an ocean's worth of tears...

it wants to be claimed.

i want to be sure.

need
to be sure.

grateful in the meantime,
fearful in the knowing:

love
might live here
again.

reaching for the sun

words can't do this.

everything i could say about you feels cliche and tired. empty descriptions that can't possibly express the warmth of your arms or the sugar in your smile.

it's difficult to write poems for you.  i'd rather be a poem for you: something uplifting or pretty to hear; something to memorize and carry with you.

would you mind?

chasin paper

inspiration: twitter & sept. 17

too many holes
in too many hearts
stuffed with paper
money;

unpack 'em
and the light
and love
might creep in...

protect the hoard
at all costs
let it fill our ears
better yet,
cover our eyes...

your greed
cannot obscure the truth:
no matter what it buys,
poverty of spirit
can never be
abundance.

please hold a moment...

started to post something last night/this morning, but it was too raw. didn't wanna expose y'all to all that blood and sinew so early.

i'm living in it, but you don't have to.

yeah, sometimes i toss up my ripped-open heart for your eyes and ears. but those things often get posted weeks, months, or years after i've written them.

being ready to share is a funny thing; it happens when it happens. it can be in the moment, or when i dig up an old journal during a cleaning jag.

today, i'm not ready. but i'll write it down somewhere.

i'll holla.

season of discomfort

putting on layers
just to snatch them off...

kicking off covers,
then shivering.

temperamental shower temperatures...

all to make room for
dying leaves
and more cold.

autumn
never gets easier.

full moon musings {9/2011}

emerging
surging
bursting
out of thought-notions no longer capable
of holding me;
wavy lines
replacing
box outlines;
feeling the moon
in my bloodstream
luxuriating in universal illumination;
i don't know myself
but i do
and i love her
just as well.

using my words

been dancing with some writer's block lately...trying to figure out what to write, how to write it, how to make it make sense...

but i've also been made newly aware of how words can show support, effect change, and share ideas.

that's pretty inspiring.

the exact manifestation eludes me, but i'm more keenly aware that i have work to do.

love as battlefield

in dialogue with Maman Danto

it is never easy
being forced to see my heart

leaning in to examine
the scar tissue
band-aids
and still-bleeding wounds...

even with help,
trudging through a battlefield
is difficult.

linen

i had
to change the bed;

the sheets
looked too empty
without you.

the audacity of hope

i.

after taking
the first step
(dreaming together in
wide arcs and
fanciful possibilities),
we crafted a brief reality
filled with long kisses and
sweet smiles.

ii.

i'm at a loss
to describe what i felt
and what i'm feeling.

but i know the words
i long to hear you say
and what i'd do
to be worthy of them.

goodbye, again

i dreamt they all came back to me: a beautiful, shining composite of the best of each of them...

we glanced, flirted, then entered into a deep kiss, overjoyed to love without the harsh details. the vision faded without a clear end or resolution.

whether or not we meet again, i'm grateful to have known you...

i have been a rover
i have walked alone
hiked a hundred highways
never found a home
still in all i'm happy
the reason is, you see
once in a while along the way
love's been good to me...
~nina simone (via rod mckuen)

this moment

releasing the love that didn't happen
to embrace the loves that can.

obrigado

i've become
so proficient
at drawing my shutters
that i hope,
one day,
i can make him understand
how magickal it is
that he can reopen my heart
with a few words
or a smile
as i sit,
exhausted,
hammer, nails and plywood
still in hand.

in passing...

returning from a visit to see mother, i wandered by a tree with very unusual leaves.

its roots were twisted and tangled and seemed a little bunched up, all but straining to respect the boundary of the sidewalk.

(i can only assume they weren't happy when it was built, but have since resigned themselves to the exchange: a little bondage, to live)

i thought, "hello. i've never seen a tree like you before..."

i sensed a faint but audible reply: "few who pass here think those thoughts or speak to me..."

that nearly stopped me cold, but i had to move on. still, i took a moment to send it some loving energy.

next time i walk that way, i'll stay awhile.

a prayer to the saint of the brokenhearted...

saint mary magdalene...you heard from the loving lips of your beloved that your many challenges were forgiven because you loved much...

pour out your love on my behalf...your cleansing tears won for you the pardon of lessons learned and the vision of your risen beloved on the horizon.

surely, dear saint, whose love was refused nothing on earth, will graciously replenish us with those blessings, for which i implore your prayers.

ase.

inhalation

i smelled you today.

well, more like
i smelled that same detergent
without you underneath.

but that was enough
to take me back
to nights in your bed
enfolded in firmly placed
nutmeg arms...
safer than i'd been in years.

hoping for that kiss
on the back of my neck
informing me
you weren't asleep
after all...

in gratitude

it is such a gift to be learning about myself in this way...

the magnitude and multitude of visions and dream layers.

the sweetness of opening to new experiences and ways of being.

the "chance" encounters that offer new perspective and lovely plumes of fresh air.

Spirit is awesome.

elemental

on: rediscovering energetic flow

for most of my life, i've been content to identify with water, immersing my pisces mermaidself in deep waters at every opportunity.

but i've come to understand that i'm also filled with heat; a flame that can manifest as anything from a flickering candle to a raging wildfire. the temperature varies as well; i've felt it red hot and icy cool.

hot or cool, it embraces and consumes like flame: fully. unapologetically.

now i know the cycle:

my water communes with the spirits.
my fire propels me through the density of this existence.
my air nourishes both.


*interestingly, there's no earth in my chart.

in the thunder and rain...

speaking of desire, pandora just reminded me that my first brush with visually-induced lust came with janet jackson's "any time, any place" video.

something about the colors, flashes of flesh...

the unseen, the implications...

that way she tossed her head back when he put his hands there, or there...

the audacity in declaring i don't care who's around... and, somehow, relating to that feeling. 

i prayed (as only a 15 year old girl can) that i'd get that neighbor in the joyous days when i was finally grown and living on my own...

haven't met him yet, though.

hearts & stars

for lf

1.
curious cats
joined by sun and moon
and nearly as far apart.

i enjoy the effervescence
of zero gravity orbit,
but pray
for an eclipse.

2.
circumstance is a strange thing.
it seems to stand in the way
when, actually,
it slowly, sweetly
opens spaces and bides time;
makes room for revelations and
well-timed whispers.

on: being

i know more than i realize,
yet have volumes to learn.

i am healed,
healing,
and still hurt.

i am closed
and open wide;

stitched
and bleeding;

profane
and the holiest of holys.

i am earthbound
and a shining star
unique unto myself
like all the others.

black
woman
spirit

human.

submerged

although i've come to understand and accept the necessity of going underwater, i am still surprised at just how deep and how far under i'll go, given the time and space.

and i know that, over time, it'll only get deeper.

i try not to think of it as "losing days" or ignoring people...

i think (hope) my friends have come to understand...

sometimes the water grabs me.
and i have to let her have her way.

i'll always come back.
promise.

defining desire

sometimes my desire is so big, deep and wide, i can't imagine asking any mortal to satisfy it. 

i wouldn't know how to ask...

the physical is the most obvious. and fun.
but then you have to capture my heart.
and my spirit.

my mind is always aching to be fed, tickled, sweetened and challenged.

i hunger for meaning. 
for substance.
in everything.

there are no coincidences here.
no chance meetings or occurrences.

i desire with a passion that both intices and terrifies. attracts and repels. intrigues and intimidates.

i am deep.
and wide.

and i've stopped feeling sorry about it.

now, i'd just like to be filled.
slowly.
patiently.
with an intent to cultivate our seeds
and reap a fantastic harvest.

four months ago...

...i wrote this:

some days, i still feel really ugly.

and i don't really know what to do about it.

i don't look at people much anyway, but on days like this, i don't look at all; i can't stand to see myself in their eyes. mirrors are impossible. every compliment is a lie.

i go between acute pain and consummate numbness.  neither allows me to hold my head up any higher...

i can feel the truth fighting with the lies. it makes me tired.
all i want to do is rest...stop the warring factions in my mind...

then, the light surrounds me...i lean into it, appreciating the warmth even as i feel i don't deserve it. my shoulders ache, my stomach rebels.

if i could only stop eating, fade away to nothing... a quiet, soft leaving...

but i can't. if i've gotten this far without hurting myself, i won't start now.

i may never get on the list of the world's most beautiful people, but i'm not bad. i know that. just like i know i'm not worthless.  except for days when i turn into a black hole of need...

i'll never be loved enough, held long enough, kissed deeply enough. nothing takes the emptiness away, but i'll lure you in and let you try. i'm damaged goods...not fit for a trash heap. but since you think i'm cute, come here for a minute and show me...show me...i demand to be filled. appeased. eased. shown some mercy.  i'll laugh at you for trying...but try anyway.

this isn't me all the time. or even most of the time. just sometimes....and, now, there are years between the sometimes.

still, when it comes, it floods me--the emptiness. if i can, i fill it with sweet things. but there are times the bitterness wins out.  of course there's also the bittersweet...the mish moshed yin yang of negatively positive thoughts...

i'm posting it now because while i cannot truthfully claim i'll never feel this way again, i do feel that these moments are destined to be few and even farther between.

this will serve as my reminder.

healing is always waiting to happen.

transmuting transportation

bus passes
passing for
gris gris
around our necks.

constantly traveling,
but do we know
our companions?

cameras
masquerading as
watchful eyes
while our ancestors
lie listless
in their loving.

we have
forgotten to call
their names
even as they shout ours.

gone are conquering roots and
strong hands;
magnetized plastic mantras
guide us to
our destinations.

our ears must attune
to something other than
train announcements.

maybe i should
shake a shekere and
see who comes
running off the platforms
easing from the bus stops
to listen.

drawing down the moon

easing into understanding and settling into sensations brought on by nascent superpowers...

this thing

{soundtrack}

i want
to love
again

so wide,
deep,
and massive that
i flow through the streets
not as a woman,
but as a wave.

P.S.

{addendum to the letter}

it's been well over a year, and in the midst of all the other learning and growing i've been doing, my heart's nagging for more has resurfaced.

i am getting closer and closer to fully calling you, drawing you to me. soon, i'll be singing your name to breezes and ocean waves, looking for visits in my dreams.

this spring, i began growing plants. the process has shown me that i need a love like a seed; a partnership between forces of nature, sprouted and nurtured in love, trust and acceptance.

after making due with men tangled up in obligations, i've also realized i need someone who mirrors my freedom, a man able to exert comparable energy in the creation and maintenance of our love.

i know i've hesitated to ask for that in the past, but i think i've earned the right to it now.  

i am sassafrass rehabilitated, growing into my indigo self.

i hope you don't mind the moon falling from my mouth.

in loving anticipation,

o.

lament letter

there is nothing like the feeling of being separated from you. nothing.

it begins with mental images. then slowly, deliberately, the sensation moves into my heart, where it causes a very specific ache.

the dull throb of a cut with just a bit of dirt rubbed in.

and while i ache, the memories come...

i recently spent the better part of a day feeling like my face was buried in your chest--you know that spot my forehead touches if i'm hugging you with no shoes on? there. i was right there. your arms lingered on my waist, resting on my hips.

there is no rhyme or reason to these flashbacks. they simply visit, merciless, immune to repeated choruses of "we're not speaking anymore".

we're not speaking
any
more...
again.

so i'm left here, alone. trying to scribble and type the ache away, praying for dreams and asking them not to actually come...because i'll only miss you more if i see you there.

i can't help wanting to see you.

i know. this is messy. it's been messy between us for a long time.

what i know:

1. we are mirror images of each other, reflecting negative and positive polarities depending on varied situations and life stages.

2. we will always love each other.

3. we will seek each other out.

some days the knowing is enough.

the days i write / cry / scream / sulk are the days it isn't.

i miss you. so much.

the end. {napowrimo '11, # 30}

this year didn't flow like last year...

for one thing, the month went by much faster. i wasn't able to queue poems as readily. and the other work i'm doing right now forced quite a few stops and starts.

however--similar to last year--it was an interesting exercise in creativity. it got me journaling more and pushed me to be present with my emotions. sometimes they were my only source of material.

who knows if i'll do this in 2012. i can't say where i'll be, or what other obligations i'll have. but thank you for reading, congrats to all those who made it through another year, and i look forward to catching up with the stuff folks wrote that i didn't get to read during the month.

all praises to the word.

a thought {napowrimo '11, # 29}

endings don't get enough credit.

they are just as deep and wide
as beginnings
and lead to
just as many
interesting places.

spring {napowrimo '11, # 28}

the earth
offers her gifts,
sending visions
of fragrant,
growing
green things.

who am i
to refuse?

living deliciously {napowrimo '11, # 27}

i don't know if i can explain
the many ways
pleasure has saved me.

this is not a treatise
on hedonism
or naivete;

pleasure permeates
every bit of air
we breathe,
begging
for conscious inhalation.

it is inviting the sun
to play in your skin.

it is
loving children
flowers
and music.

the flavors
and scents
of food.

it is dancing
for no reason at all,
anywhere at all
...even while sitting still.

or
simply
smiling sweetly
at myself
(or a lover)
in the morning.

untitled {napowrimo '11, # 26}

inspiration's short,
but sleep is long. the struggle
continues. four days.

something sweet {napowrimo '11, # 25}

bathed
in lover's honey
waiting
for warm moments
to crash over me
like ocean waves.

mercury retrograde {napowrimo '11, # 24}

retrograde shatters
illusions; we make room for
new realities.

sista {napowrimo '11, # 23}

a tanka

mami wata hair,
knotty like tree roots. lagoon
eyes, black, reflect your
image, not color. she is
proof: beauty's diversity.

untitled {napowrimo '11, # 22}

i've been
one of those women
weeping in your arms
helpless against
your particular enchantment...

but in the end,
your ice
cooled my core.

you could
listen
lust after
but not love.

lost signal {napowrimo '11, # 21}

for twin flames & linked destinies

a lovesick morning
punctuated by
cool clouds
and
we're on that
universal telephone again
struggling to connect
across crossed stars...

i've grown tired of seeking reasons
for this lifetime's meeting;
what i need now
is a balm
for your absence.

untitled/incomplete {napowrimo '11, #20}

i was fine until
you cried.

trees
don't fall down
in a mere breeze.

sap-tears run down my arms,
too sticky for kleenex.

i'll have to bathe
in the river
to wash away your sorrow.

womanlove
doesn't repair
roots
bark
branches...

artistry {napowrimo '11, #19}

for mama beah

limitless black beauty
so often shoved into
a pigeon's place
left to rot
under false representations
and sexless muumuus.

but we know better.

we understand
the luminosity
and depth
of brown.

we know the origins
of our ochre, cream and saffron highlights
and can trace the lineage
of the untamed strut
carried by heads held high.

and we know you.

we know
your envy
can maim
but it cannot kill.

pet {napowrimo '11, #18}

my only "child"
is a fussy black tomcat
full of
various and sundry meows
and hug-like head butts.

ecosystem {napowrimo '11, #17}

if, as he said,
women are like ecosystems,
i'd be tropical:
a volcanic island,
black sand greeting cerulean sea;
green trees bearing greener coconuts
populated with beautiful people
and brilliantly colored birds.

everything about me
would inspire life, love
and gratitude to spirits and ancestors
for having the good graces
to be incarnated here.

hospital waiting room {napowrimo '11, #16}

bodies succumb while
the spirit remains high: a
prescription for joy.

costume change {napowrimo '11, #15}

home means
wrapping myself in a sarong;
moonstone beads hanging
between warm breasts.

in a name {napowrimo '11, #14}

a gray fortress
by the sea
with a garden of hollies
and a garden by the pool.

merciful waters
wind their way home.

born in honor
full of prayer
and grace.

untitled {napowrimo '11, #13}

help me
wail
cry
gnash my teeth

let it out

i gotta tell somebody.

i don't give a damn about my throat
i'd rather lose my mind.

can't
breathe
help
i

i am
sliding down a wall
no one made

the floor
is far away
like you

by some twist of fate
(possibly several)
you're not mine...

centuries old conversations
assault my ears

before i know it
i'm thrashing around to shake them off...

and all you've done
is say hello
and ask how i'm doing.

blah {napowrimo '11, #12}

fatigue and grumbling
tummies make for listless poems.
tomorrow, hope floats.

sex {napowrimo '11, #11}

auburn topped
blackberry triangle
framing fluttery petals

tasty, textured wonder

love incarnate.

thief {napowrimo '11, #10}

for beni

he's convinced
i'm made of honey and
sneaks into my dreams
to grab sticky kisses
and handfuls of flesh.

waking,
he snatches breath, speech
with quick hands and tongue;

the soft, sweet mouth
renders me helpless.

no need
to hurt me...
take what you want.
i'm yours.

why i write sad poems / triple tanka {napowrimo '11, #9}

in self defense, a
broken 16 year old sought
meaning in her pain;
a struggle to become whole
after the splitting apart.

later, rebelling
against misplaced love and rage,
poems became condensed
emotion; ways to speak my
soul in small, unsafe spaces.

as healing flows, the
habit remains. poems, my blue
train; slow burn jazz riffs
contrasted with life's joy. sad
poet with a blissful heart.

the brokenhearted qadishtu* {napowrimo '11, #8}

who heals the healer when she breaks?

they say the wives
envy us.

well, i envy the wives.

all this sacrifice.
morphing our bodies into shrines,
enduring the glares of the so called civilized...
for what?
we appease a spirit we never see.

well...no...
i have seen Her.
once, the radiance of Her smile
saturated my dreams,
granting gifts many never realize.

but now
i'm not so sure
this isn't just an elaborate farce.

i believed...
before he came.

a beautiful man with Her sweet smile
and sad eyes
he begged for help,
weeping on the hem of my skirt.

my heart filled
as it always did with sincere seekers.

for months,
i cradled and taught him;
raised his energy,
fed his soul...
all so he could plant a seed
in his wife's womb.

he spoke of her often.
(the only words of his i ignored)
i used every trick i knew--
and some i said i never would--
to make him mine,
but his heart stayed with her,
no matter what his body said to me.

and when it was time,
he left,
shining.

i was fine
in my anticipatory denial
until the day his woman entered the sanctuary,
resplendent with new life,
daring...to give...thanks.

i promptly destroyed my rooms.
i would have gone for the altar,
but i wasn't completely mad...yet.
so i contented myself
with demolishing the last alabaster jar.

why was my love only meant
for the intangible,
the unseen?

what is my reward?
where is my solace?

in desperation,
i ran to the sea
and wept in it.

She pulsed,
but remained silent.

where were Her abundant arms?

in Her infinite mercy,
why didn't She come
and swallow me up?

there
was
no
answer.

that's when my heart shattered
and my magic turned against me...
i lost all my senses;
the light of Her love went out.

my prayers became empty ministrations;
my blessings vapid.

i will remain faithless
the rest of my days.

{*definition}

spin cycle {napowrimo '11, #7}

once again i find myself
scattered to the 50-11 winds
wanting to be 5 places and
do 10 things
at once...

but, for now,
i have hours when i'm relegated to work
and hours that i'm not.
keeping them straight
is a(n) (arbitrary) priority.

i struggle to keep up with calendars
and other piscean torture devices
smushing food and (real) life
somewhere in the middle.

wild ideas
crash into walls
and deadlines...
even my dreams are rambling.

the being overwhelmed
leads to blame and shame:
"you know this is what happens
when you let yourself out to play!
it's altogether too confusing, too consuming!
grow up. focus.
get yourself together, girl.
stop dreaming all the time!
where's it gonna get you?"

that nasty voice
the constant fight
between soul-work
and what needs to happen
to put food on the table.

then, oblivious to my confusion and dissonance,
a cycle shifts
and sense is made.
pieces fall into place
with a word
an image
or flash of inspiration.

and so, i begin again,
laser-focused,
until the next time...

melancholy herb garden musings {napowrimo '11, #6}

watching seedlings emerge from dark soil
i wonder what their growth
will say about my own.

do my flowers lean because i'm unsure?
does the basil droop when i'm sad?

i know they need more heat and sunshine than i can offer.
but i can't rush the cool, reluctant spring.

even as trees bloom and daffodils wave outside,
it's a harder year for those
relegated to the hands of amateur, indoor gardeners.

i remain open to their teachings
as they reveal themselves to me
praying for a patio
overflowing with expressions of my care
not the forlorn corner of misfit pots
i left in my old apartment.


{i really don't know why this came out sounding so forlorn. lol. actually, most of my nascent plants are doing fairly well. just this morning i saw a chamomile seedling starting to emerge...}

overdrawn {napowrimo '11, #5}

i go insane / crazy sometimes / tryin to keep you from losin your mind...

my love
has never saved you
from yourself.

i gave up the saving
but never the loving.

open your eyes / see what's in front of your face / save me my...

save me...
just save...me.
forget about the tears.

i've already shed
an ocean's worth,
and i'm not done.

i shoulda
been bought stock
in kleenex
foolin wit yo ass...

was i a fool?

will we ever
get this right,
or are we destined
to silently scream
into magic mirrors,
praying one day
we won't hear each other

...knowing
we always will?

save me my...


{*italicized lyrics from maxwell's "fistful of tears"}

untitled / stream of consciousness #1 {napowrimo '11, #4}

grateful for challenge,
expansion.

new eyes
guiding new hands
into
soul journeys.

feeding purpose,
gathering strength.

listening for messages
in ordinary rhythms.

haiku {napowrimo '11, #3}

sleeping my way through
weekends, bracing for the week.
fair exchange? not sure.

bembe {napowrimo '11, #2}

bare altars
rivers of yellow and blue cloth
topped with elaborate soperas
stare back at me, beckoning.

i reach for them when no one is looking.

the sink is full of dishes
i say i intend to wash
a sheetcake awaits decoration
i can already see finished.

this will be an interesting party.

i keep falling asleep in a small room
where at least three other people
are waking up.
why did i think i was alone?

spain lilts on their tongues
but i am still myself.
who invited me here?

the last time i struggle to wake
my eyes don't work
i know the dream is ending.

my gratitude for the message
is nearly eclipsed by my confusion.

the ever winding path
my ancestors walked
gets longer with each vision.

beginning {napowrimo '11, #1}

the opening
is difficult.

the violent but necessary splitting
pushes me into the world

i want to say stop
but cannot.

this is mother's wisdom.

it is time.
i have to let it be time.

doing it again...

the facebook peer pressure got to me, so i'm going to try to do napowrimo again this year.

found some good tips...and there's always the random haiku to get through the slow days.

so here we go!

forever & always...

you know who you are...



Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
and think of you
caught up in circles
confusion is nothing new
Flashback--warm nights--
almost left behind
suitcases of memories,
time after--

sometimes you picture me--
I'm walking too far ahead
you're calling to me, I can't hear
what you've said--
Then you say--go slow--
I fall behind--
the second hand unwinds

chorus:
if you're lost you can look--and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you--I'll be waiting
time after time

after my picture fades and darkness has
turned to gray
watching through windows--you're wondering
if I'm OK
secrets stolen from deep inside
the drum beats out of time--

chorus:
if you're lost...

you said go slow--
I fall behind
the second hand unwinds--

chorus:
if you're lost...
...time after time
time after time
time after time
time after time

storm

there are drums and dreams in the thunder...

she of 10,000 names

vintage tumblr.

the new lab

my journals tend to last about 6 months or so...

interestingly, it seems i always need a new one just before my birthday.

don't forget to grow with the moon...

forge

for dae

within the pain is a small pearl of pleasure.

the defiant measure of, "you will not kill me."

the sweet, salty ache
of lemon on a paper cut;
a stinging, biting healing.

the ability to laugh.
deep, belly laughs.

the smug chuckle of the harlot after a lashing from the wife.
the snicker of the Goddess before she moved underground.
the maniacal cackle in the midst of a gut wrenching cry.

that is the jewel i am creating
deep down in the center of myself.

making it

it seems many of us are looking for rest,
soft places.
evolution has made us tired
like babies just birthed,
their eyes assaulted by hospital lights.

we need comfort
and deep waters.
if we're lucky
we find them
somewhere between the laundromat
and the cubicle wall.

we will make it past this.
we will.
we have to.
there is more work to do.
more blessings to bring to the world.

rest is only rest
not death.

the cycles continue.

moment #3587

he has the beautiful habit of fitting into unlikely spaces to cuddle with me, fitting himself into/next to me like a warm, brown appendage.

i feel his pulse; different, but still like my own. it deeply interests me. i enjoy watching it flow through his neck as he rests.

if i kiss it, he smiles.

i'd forgotten these gifts that men bring.

black & blue

i recall the sensation
of your fingertips grazing my hips...

they wanted to get to know you;
you seemed to want the same.

there's been lots of silence since.

hands transposed with daggers
memories laced with dolor.

convivial conversations in sweetened sunshine
ended in bitter tears
falling into sunday morning tea.

no consolation
fearing confrontation
immobilized by the past
uncertain of the future.

the spirits said...
then you did...
left reeling, confused,
bruised,
ego cradling.

i don't know what you want,
but if you're leaving,
take my crystal ball.

the others cracked it
now i can see the spider web taking shape...

it's useless to me.

maybe you can ground it into pixie dust.

i need a different spell.

{july 2008}

100 ideas - halved

you may have noticed that i scaled back to 50 ideas...

i'm sorry to have to cut this project short, but life has gotten in the way, as it is wont to do.  now that i'm a full two (almost three) weeks behind, i really don't know when i'll be able to catch up.   

it was a ton of fun to try to make this happen, and i hope you had fun, too.  maybe i will post another 50 ideas in the coming months.

as always, you can check out my tumblr for all kinds of inspirational goodness.

peace

inhale/exhale

you found
a new way to hold me...
channeling the sun
to thaw my soul.

all that magic
in two hands
and a strong shoulder.

baba mi...

tumblr post.

idea #50 - make micromovements!

seeing as this is the halfway point and considering the mid-january snag, it's a great time to discuss micromovements.

when you feel overwhelmed, break a task into pieces. ease into it. make it work bit by bit. celebrate when you succeed!

idea #49 - write a letter

...a real, handwritten letter. and snail mail it!

idea #48 - host a potluck

...folks love food!

idea #47 - learn how to introduce yourself in a new language

google translate can help.

idea #46 - grow a plant

idea #45 - drink more water

:-)

idea #44 - read a life-changing book

or, more specifically, ask a friend about a book that had a deep influence on them/their life. then read it.

idea #43 - read howard zinn

http://howardzinn.org/

idea #42 - learn your chart

astrolabe has a great free tool that shows you the planets in each house on your chart.

if you know {or can find out} your exact birth time, even better.

for more on astrological houses, click here.

idea #41 - make a snowflake

here.

idea #40 - start a facebook group

...and if you're really interested in making a difference with said group, read this book.

epiphany #3085 {haiku}

i will make love new
again. this winter protects
new seeds. growth awaits.

idea #39 - make a collage

i've found that this is the perfect way to be artsy without having to know how to draw, paint or anything as intimidating as that. 'cause art can be quite intimidating to me.

but piecing a bunch of things together can be pretty cool. it's also a great project for kids.

try it sometime...just pick a theme and have at it!

~*~*idea intermission*~*~

...back in a moment.

if you just can't stand the wait, check out ted.

idea #38 - play in the snow

...if you have any where you are.

otherwise, just go out and play.

idea #37 - dare yourself NOT to dance

or, dare yourself TO dance.

whichever is most challenging.

here's something to get you started:

idea #36 - get away from home

...take a plane if you can. the farther, the better. at least 4 hours away from your current home base.

ready?


set...


go!

idea #35 - writing prompt

as s/he/zhe walked along the shore, a voice whispered...

idea #34 - find a long lost friend

with all the negativity around social networking these days (seen a court show or heard about a "facebook divorce" lately?), why not use it for something worthwhile?

find a former beloved teacher, or a friend you've lost touch with. reconnect with distant relatives. that sort of thing.

have fun!

idea #33 - stretch

your body
your limits
your dreams
your palette
your art
your love
your healing

...whatever you feel comfortable expanding on/in/upon...do it.

reach for the stars.

idea #32 - blow bubbles

:-)