November 3rd, 2010
Back in the city and I feel like my heart is breaking out of my chest...remembering crouching down low under brush and moving quietly like foxes over the landscape with companions also feeling the wet moss, twigs and sapling firs brush them in exquisite detail. Heart to heart conversations with those who see into my hurt like I'm wearing it proud on my sleeve. Understanding presence and ground beneath my feet and listening wholly and giving freely to my community. Lurking around the edges of the fire, keeping watch over the east gate, turning my face outward to the ancestors, spirits, sky and trees beyond our tight circle, then spiraling back in to tend the fire we all gather and conjour around.
And now I feel like I'm bouncing off all this cement -- it's too hard, it doesn't hold me, I don't fit in here in any sense of the word and my heart was not welcomed in this which masquerades as my homecoming. I am still not the first nor the tender concern of the one I share breath and my most vulnerable aspects with. And all the other lovers I've kept are falling away and usually I'd find myself grasping desperately, sending out lines of communication madly just to receive something back from someone somewhere to help survive me for today. Today I just can't. Today I let go instead and open myself to finding where I need to be. Because this whole scene is not working, my spirit suffers gravely and I deserve more. I am capable of shining this beautiful and needed light from within me in ways that touch others and change them and this place and this love dull me. Keep me always on the run, always dodging shadows and protecting myself savagely. I do not like what I've been becoming here.
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November 16, 2010
I'm whittled back to a stump now. The outer tough bark of me shredded off over time of trying to love well enough to save someone from their shadow. If someone doesn't want to help themself, the best thing, the only thing we can do is to put up our hands and walk away. Thank you to my guides for that.
The chill is creeping in to late California fall. The moon's peering down on me in this painted alleyway of corrugated tin and potted plants and barbed wire. She reminds me of the movement ever present and of the pull we have on each other and on all things. I choose to sever the energetic ties that no longer serve, the ways in which I've bound myself that keep me sabotaging myself and mistrusting my wisdom. I can be this whole, beautiful, contrary creature, crafting a nest for my heart and choosing with intention where I extend my heartstrings.
