Archive for the ‘personal’ Category

ur 4-me-ness

and the sirens Sing.


music of death, injury, and trauma


if e’er a good place to be depressed, thss were it. Rooms lit by the warmth of an open oven –

a kitten pouncing on my feet at random,

makeshift bread puddings,

and words of agreement on paint colors.

the freedom of girls whose skin gets brighter

wth the tendence of god’s will.

travel and peace, time and velvet intuits.

spinning vinyl in the corners

and candles slowly litting,


furls and uncurls

of the absence of r Union

and the masking of cold, cold afternoons in sweaters.


I hesitate to say I’m doing poorly

‘til I notice how my lungs’v shrunk

nd that the pace of my life has become less-sustainable.

It’s been my task to still and absorb

I feel I’ve been failing. (felt definitively something shifting)

but still unknowing how to conceive anymore.


I like, however,

relinquishing control

to some extent.


I hesitate to say I’m


‘til I think of how much work I do these days

just to feel like myself –

when the memory of getting into the driver’s seat after work,

feeling your skin on mine,

and blooming my bouquet in your vast, lay-to-wait-luminescence,

made me feel more at home

inside this vessel

than anything ever does.


It was the subtlest layer unfurling.

juicy heart neath all that design:

the Yoga of finding center

without looking.


You led me straight there every time.



May I never underestimate

the value of your for-me-ness



HOnestly, HOney, these energies so comingling

for endlessness.

I can’t express enough

the depth of your waters

or how tantalizing they are.

These memory lanes are lined with leaves

to gather and crunch and dine on as they die

and dancing flames, shifting their arenas

with twisting confidence.

and manure

and piss

and my own menstrual blood, shaking out over the undergrowth.

these lanes are dawn and dusk

and live beside the core(ps) of my being

for now and how long.


How often is it,


you find a man who is your flesh and blood

know it the moment you lay in the grass together

who can talk your language,

which happens to jive with the tongue of the trees?


how often is it

that these tormenting dreams

bring one truth?


I always want to tame or suppress my darkness.

His light was bright enough

to illuminate all that


without him I need some rock to hold

so I can quiet in the night

and stay up past eleven

breathing through my nose.



I’ll never understand all this.

Only can I unfold it.

Til then, search on the untold

caress the heart

and sensitize the malleable mold.


And see what continent;

what mount r plain;

will seize my form for the coming times.


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The Sweetest Orange

Things are right!

Because even though I sometimes sacrifice myself for small stuff, I have never made a large decision despite it feeling wrong. No! He was guided to me, at what seemed such an inopportune time –

but the time was exactly on for my heart to click open! And it’s not as if I made the choice to come here despite any better knowledge or feeling otherwise. I was led here by one of those indecipherable moments, much like the moment of our meeting. I was being pulled in both directions. It isn’t as though I knew one was more crucial than the other and I knowingly ignored that implication. I have never done that for something larger. I have made mistakes sometimes, yes, but never on such a scale. I would not be able to survive for such a missed call.

and despite what might be inferred, I am not here simply to appease the masses. Initially that wasn’t the intention and it holds. I am still working things out, and this location-atmosphere-environment is crucial to the development of my own life-theses. Heres! Surrounding opportune. And active takeage! Nothing is wrong. Stuff has been difficult, but nothing is wrong. If I’d sensed ultimate wrongness, it would have been patched. If it’d shown clear one decision would bear such sweet fruit and complete nourished my pathsoul, I’d have done it.

We shall never lament a changed course, for streams and creeks diverge as the branches of trees as the joints on the stem of lovely green. Only to observe what is going on, let it flow within you along with all the emotions it may stir as river mud,

and knowing we will see what weather brings. I wait, excited, with bated breath, knowing nothing of what is to come later today, this month, this year –

It struck me today that life may just continue. On and on and on and on. Just life. Breathing. Going. Unstoppable, unbreachable, unbreakable. I will age and wrinkle and dust and produce progeny and life. will just continue flowing. burning. blowing. decomposing. life.

Love I am sorry if ever i prevented you from being yourself

Love I am sorry if ever i tempted you from a place you knew you belonged

love i am sorry for the pain we’ve been washing in

love you. and your wei,

love On


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work in progress

It’s just that I haven’t proven to myself yet that I’m okay. That I can take care of myself.

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You help me to know I can do anything        –

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Can’t figure (won’t?).

The other night by candlelight

i pulled these cards


8 of water: “To choose this card is a recognition that something is finishing. Something greater is awaiting you, new dimensions to be discovered.”

4 of rainbows: “This card challenges us to look at what we are clinging to, and what we feel we possess that is so valuable it needs to be protected by a fortress… it could be something as simple as taking the risk of expressing our love…”

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For Joy

Mimamsa says those who remain in samsara (the cycle of suffering) do so in ignorance. But what of those who simply believe they love their suffering? And those who would rather remain in suffering than perform the work required of exiting from it. These simply forms of ignorance?

The other day, a girl said to me: “I just know that enlightenment isn’t for me in this lifetime.” Okay. What can I argue that with, when someone blatantly tells me and themselves that they’re not willing to do what it takes to embrace the joy they were created to eventually achieve? It’s the excuse about a certain position on a path. An excuse that I have used, that in ways I continue to use, and I’m unsure whether I buy it anymore.

We live in a (Western) culture of hypocrisy. That is not to say hypocrisy doesn’t exist outside this culture, just that I see now that I wade within a gaggle of people who think one way and do another.

I myself am one of these people. And I continue to be inclined in thinking that I do not know how to act in accordance with my beliefs. What does this mean, practically? How does it look from moment to moment, decision to decision? Here I am, reverting to old habits that are manifestations of my suffering. And I know now that it’s not a matter of stopping myself from engaging in these habits. Rather, it’s about changing whatever is the cause of the habits. At the root of them. And what I believe is that the cause of suffering is failing to engage with and act upon your inner truth, guiding knowledge. Essentially: ignoring God. But, I ask, how do I engage with God amidst all of these societally-imposed obligations? And is the answer to find myself within these limits or rather to eliminate the limits and thus more firmly direct myself towards the listening of the universe? Perhaps some are able to stay grounded within the obstacles and others need to escape them to find truth? Is this the difference between monastic and tantric methodology?

Does activism matter at all if your actions outside of it conflict with your beliefs? Does anything matter at all if you do not behave in line with what you feel and what you know. I feel, I do, that I cannot make real change or difference in anything without first knowing myself and never straying from that.

I long for him

like pieces missing in a rainbowed puzzle

of mine own Truth

everyone else pales

all connections seem forced and putrid

I wake up wishing I were on a floor, coldness outside and chipping paint surrounding. The most limited resources engulfing us and yet both needing nothing but the nourishment we feed one another in simple presence.

But I cannot go to him because I want to feel whole. And I cannot go to him because I want him to feel better. I can only go to him when I’ve disbanded all illusions and I sincerely want him for no other reason than because that’s what’s inside of me.

It can’t be a mind-thought. It can’t be a heart-thought. It is only a source-know that can lead me to him again. [God I hope to be led to him again]

And the why it isn’t now

is because I continue to make simple mistakes and I know they would result in abuse of what we share, like they already have. And I can’t go to him until I am secure in myself. So I can understand and look him in the eye and explain every treacherous act for what it us and be resolute in knowing that such treachery has sparked out like a gradually-weakened flame and no longer appears to waver me or shake any foundation.

I wish to be ready now

but i know if i went now he’d spy my weaknesses and they’d remain him in torment (because they keep me there, and we are One).

And I want to believe we could overcome them together, but I fear crossing that line into a path of needing him to assist me. And the last thing I want to do is come to him solely out of belief that he can help me ascend.

The only way I want to come to him is from my own intuition. Disbanding overuse of mind and overemotionality. And our stars are so aligned that surely their magic will allow happenings to unfold in a manner conducive to our workings together

as long as I am able to do my own work

and not stray from that work. Regardless.

And I am still not achieving there. But even so, hope holds out for me because I know my potential so well.

And here I go.

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We’ll come Together

At the place where my horses run free. A place that is him and me, surrounded by some pure open expanse. Standing on solid ground. Ground that is solid but gives. And swallowed full by the sky –

this charcoal, indigo sky brown and blue. We are surrounded. And I

link my hand into yours

the delicate fingers loving each touch enough and so not to snap any

rubbing of pads and circles colliding

we shall link then

and toss our head back, its crown wanting the earth but the feet still firm roote

we shall roll our shoulders down and open our heart to the sky

the shine of our face drinking in the moon

and moving up, forward,


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