love, z.s.

{reference points}

there never would have been enough strength. what you needed me to do, be, threatened to break my back.

so i walked.
walked fast, far and long.

i found a place for myself.
a small, simple, pretty place i love.

i had no choice but to make it home.

i found other ways to love.  but none that awakened. none that stayed weekends, cooked breakfast, or drew baths.  none that fed me soup or wrapped me in blankets when the chill came.  none that laughed, cried or moaned with me.  none that kissed me in the rain.

i loved in cool, collected ways.  ways that earned gratitude, friendships and laughter.  ways that danced, sung, prayed sometimes.  it was not passion, but it was often joy.  most of the time, this was enough, this open, public love.

most.

i manage.
i survive.

my heart is a kind of desert, one that remembers itself as rainforest: lush and fertile, plush with brilliant flowers and technicolor birds.

yes, there is beauty in the desert: a stark palette of necessity, utility.  the sky is still its blue; some cacti flower.

life just under the surface...love buried in sand full of dormant seeds and preserved pollen.  the arid blessing that maintained the bodies of ancestors for thousands of years.  a whispering love, praying the wind will serve as audience.  the occasional, elusive oasis fed by hidden waters.

it is there.

it is still deciding what to be.

brash as an explorer, excavating buried realms?
skittish as a lizard?

it survives, though.

like so many things that shouldn't, but do...it survives.

because it is, i am.

and i go on.

in my little home
in the desert

with
a love
that
awaits
a monsoon.

coming home near sunset...

sweet dollop half moon
lounging in
cotton candy sky

grateful
for the honeybee
that nearly lit on my hand
at lunch

for seeing through honeyed eyes
even with no explicit reason
for dulcet expressions.

maybe i can finally
touch my own center...

make beauty effortless
effortlessly see myself

effortlessly see...

sense
something
more...

distinction

my bliss may not look like yours. 

it may sound strange that i need to remind myself of that, but it's the classic empath trap. hearing and seeing what makes others happy can translate into a vicarious bliss that, once faded, reminds you that you weren't really following your heart, you were noticing someone else's.

and you're back to square one.

most times you don't even realize what's happening...until you crash.

skittles & iced tea

angel-faced
brown boy
not even as big as the other kids

but still a threat to someone...

i can't say i'm trying to make sense of the incident.
i know why it makes "sense". 

if i'm trying to make sense of anything,
it's why we've come this far
to learn so little.

i've spent so much time
trying to get the black men in my presence to relax
even when i know why they can't.

stories like this unravel all my weaving.

i suppose we can only do
what we can
where we can.

pray.

hope for the best.

maybe.

maybe more...

at the moment

yet again i dreamt of kissing a man i didn't really want.
not sure what that means.

energy's elusive
still.

sick of drinking water
even though i'm sure it's making me less sick

etc
and so on

i hope to be back in the swing of things very soon...

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.

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.

drawing down the moon

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

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.

solstice 2010

grateful for my loving
and all it's taught me

moving forward
even when it's difficult

reminiscing
releasing
cleansing
reflecting

taking comfort in the light of the moon
as the solstice returns the sun

i am full
of myself
and others
life's bittersweetness
and pure joy.

fire & water

my prayers often begin as a catch in my throat.
tears.
a certain, specific confusion.

eventually, the words come...
torrents of joy, pain, hope, thanks, healing...

i'm feeling that way now.

caught between
a scream and silence
frustration and satisfaction.

sometimes i get caught up in the specifics of ritual
wonder if i'm "doing it right"
and i have to stop myself
breathe
remember that all genuine entreaties are heard
and answered.

lately, i've been focused on power objects
searching for the meaning in my names,
my date of birth,
patron spirits,
favorite symbols.

emotional rollercoasters have become an unwelcome norm.
longing for balance
something stable, reliable.

then i return to the problem of prayer...
remembering all is heard,
i try to get it right before i ask,
untangle my thoughts,
strand by strand.

sometimes it feels like caution.
other times, procrastination.

then i hear orunmila's constant chant:
balance, balance...

i'm trying, baba.
i'm trying.

the rainbow is enuf.

there's pain on all sides.
there's drama on all sides.

we've hurt, maimed, and damaged one another in many ways.

still, we retain the power to heal, dream, love, and uplift ourselves and each other.

i am afraid we are allowing the pain to cloud true wisdom and deeper guidance.

the hoopla over for colored girls seems to be unearthing a lot of old feelings and illuminating the still-open wounds and still-wide chasms that separate us.

there is wisdom in saying we must protect our hearts,
but protection is not the same as closure.

i feel like we're swinging to extremes, aching for balance.

maybe the pendulum just has to do what it does and settle into a softer rhythm over time, finally settling into center.

if so, is patience the lesson we need to learn?

are we trying to rush a process that cannot be rushed?

we need to talk about the ugly.
but we should not turn each other into stereotypes and monoliths.
we have to resist its tendency to dominate our minds and spirits.

we need to take responsibility for our own, personal wounds.
know ourselves, deeply, halting the wheels of futile, painful cycles.

there should be no unearned, blanket support without proof of progress and growth. we cannot allow romantic, unrealistic notions to erase or underestimate the challenges that exist.

still, we can learn how to deeply support one another as we tend to our collective wounds.

it is complex.
we cannot make it simple.

there is beauty in that complexity, if we can open ourselves to it.

there is not one way to love, to be loving, to receive love, to be loved.
the ways are so plentiful we cannot count them.

who taught us there was only one way to be satisfied? to be whole?

art, analysis, psychology...these are conversation starters. light-shiners that give us frames, language, concrete foundations to build on.

a means to an end.
a way to name.

but what's your soul saying?

mine:
now that we've unearthed the pain
we have to go deeper
unearth the healing
roll in the dark, fragrant, fertile soil that feeds the world
study star-shine.

all of that is part of us.
we are part of it all.

don't let the fear win.
or the shame.

cry the tears...just don't drown in them.

i love my brothas.
but i need you to learn how to love yourselves
so you can love me back.

can you do that for me?


~~

{note: this is a pre-screening stream of consciousness. i'm sure there will be more once i've actually seen the film...but these are the vibes i'm picking up as i'm hearing/seeing folks react. i worry that there are countless, unexamined opportunities for growth, beauty, and strength beneath the surface. all my life i have heard the whisper, go deeper...i suppose i'm praying that everyone - in their way - gets that same message and gains the courage to do so.}

the constant challenge of empathy

full. overwhelmed. grateful. questioning.

there is, at once, so much joy, grief, tension, cooperation, splintering.

confused wisdom. glimpses of bliss, connection. collective frustration, pain.

i am trying to let it pass over and around rather than through me...keep it just outside my consciousness instead of allowing it to take over completely...

sometimes i forget to shield myself.

sometimes i can't do what "everyone else" does.

i need extra space to breathe and dream in.

sometimes i forget to take it.

moonshine

mama moon is workin' me somethin fierce...

she forces my tears, pushes me to feel the pain inflicted by the ignorance and insensitivity of the world, while illuminating who we truly are...

who we could still be
if we would only open our eyes. wide.

i almost threw myself back under the covers today.

but...no.

not even amid whispers and shouts of...

you brown, so you down, but hide your love from me. i don't wanna see its face.

you betta learn to slap that girl to make her mind.

yeah. i'm fked up. but that's just me, tho. i'll deal with it. whatchu mean i gotta think about how my pain affects the planet's energy? fk outta here. i'm aight. i'm aight.

mama africa is the source of EVERYTHING! ...except that.

stop bein so grown. who you think you is? hmph. you ain't special.

if you gotta drop of tha blood, you gotta be all black everything. all day. all the time. everywhere in the world. but you gotta be black like THIS, tho.  that other shit don't count.

always actin like yo daddy.

why can't you/they/he/she just deal with it?

i'll take rest,
but silence is too much.

we're still caught in this matrix of face saving and half truth telling.

of intellectualizing with no heart or spirit.

of keeping women locked in prisons of queendom and false righteousness.

of keeping men frozen in their own despair.

of keeping everyone between the binary invisible. 

of obsessing over lack and sex acts, blocking visions of abundance and variety.

we are microcosms
of the universe
if we are not healed
our mother will remain angry
and broken.

there is beauty in the struggle
in the ugly
in the figuring out
in the inbetween
...but only if we live unadulterated truth.

shackles do not only surround the feet and mind
they can lock down the heart and spirit.
or have you forgotten?

are you stuck somewhere,
heart still in chains,
afraid to grow, 
afraid to see?

why?
why?
why?

consciousness stream

me.
now:

enamored
glamoured
warm/warming to touch
in progress/evolving
blessed with a song
affected, deeply.

infinite possibilities

{title track}

dipped in ancient well water, my senses flooded with goddess energy...

i have no idea how to finish that. but it's how i feel.

lately, many thoughts come in those sorts of bursts--incomplete but potent flares of feeling.

over the last few days, i have relived many moments. some joyous, some traumatic, all illuminating.  i have come a long way, and i see a long road in front of me.  i am not daunted by it.  rather, i am encouraged and inspired by the possibilities that await me. 

i hope to travel that road under a sky as beautiful as the one i saw this evening: wisps of peach-yellow clouds floating above a strip of blue sky, giving off just enough light to outline an impossibly thick bottom layer of mountainous, steel gray clouds.

you must be able to walk across clouds like that. you simply must.

in this moment

i am...

open
soft
trusting
full
learning
empty
loving
firm
knowing
healing/healed

accepting
growing
expanding
evolving

moving beyond...

via twitter {or: rant #98,127}

i'm in love. with everything. mainly myself. but when i get full, it expands and runs over and i see the beauty in it all... and i know that can sound like some hippy dippy bullshit, but it really isn't.

in my opinion, it's at the core of our nature; it is nature itself. why flowers bloom, the ocean moves, and the sun rises.

when we love, when we are loving, when we are loved...it all fits, it all works. but we've gotta expand the boundaries. marriage, partnership, kids, home, family...all of that is love, but it's not ALL love is.

you can be loved/loving if you live alone, if you're childless, if you are {financially} poor.

true poverty is not understanding this; the constant search for things instead of soul.

things are great. they make life easier. but they are not all.

you are all.
earth is all.
sky is all.
water is all.
fire is all.

go deeper.

{begin here}
{if you can't see the timeline, follow me.}

trying

feeling dazed
uprooted

things are changing
moving
shifting
trying to keep up
stay focused

release
renew
restore

struggling to reemerge
even though i don't want to
it's safer, here.

but staying hidden won't help forever.

i'll find my way home
someday.

missing love

i miss my loving body.

meaning
the way it changes
and rounds
and curves
when i'm regularly loved
touched
held
and ecstatically pleasured.