With each inhalation, the colors increased in saturation, expanding into waves that resembled a rainbow ocean around me. The curtains slowly parted and dots of brilliant violet light swiftly dancing around each other in no apparent order swam through darkness as an opening in a forest came into view. This meadowy riverbank was lush, astoundingly vibrant and spiced with scents that only nature is capable of providing. My eyes inhaled every shade of green I've ever seen and some hues I didn't even know existed. Purple and orange and yellow wild flowers speckled the ground and dandelion globes glowed while mountains framed the sky. My first step out of my skin was met with soft earth and warm grass. Walking beside the river, I swung my left foot into it every few yards until I just had to drink it. The clarity of the water was unparalleled to anything I've ever seen or felt or tasted before. My entire being began to crave the feeling that only my feet had experienced. I bathed in the river and made my way through the unkempt overgrowth to a giant Oak and laid on a grassy patch beneath it. Sunbeams peeked through the leaves and the breeze kissed me head to toe whispering secrets only she knows. There were no sounds to alert me, but I felt him coming.
I opened my eyes, sat up and waited. The top of his head came into view in the distance as he too walked along the river. The closer he got, the warmer I grew and as more of his being came into my view, tears began to stream down my face. The corners of my mouth jumped up and I felt my breath quicken. He beamed so brightly, so purely, so perfectly. His beauty absolutely overwhelmed me. Warmth transformed to heat which began to creep steadily, filling me head to toe. I looked down at myself to again find every single piece zipping around dancing excitedly.
He turned and made his way through the path to me and I saw his own dancing violet dots pulsating as his grin met mine. His eyes I don't feel I have the vocabulary to describe in entirety. All I can say is that they are bright and wide and warm and loving and comforting and they are home. I have lived inside them many, many times before this. He took my hand to stand me up, wrapping me inside of him the moment I had fully risen. With each breath and each beat our combined light brightened. This seemed to excite the birds as they sang and danced in the air and branches above us. The breeze returned to join the birds singing her song and the tree gently bowed, gifting his shoulder with a leaf. For hours we danced, we swam, we played and did as we always do. We loved.
He sat against the trunk of the Oak and I climbed onto his lap. Face to face, we spoke and he told me what I already knew."I'm not ready yet." I smiled. "Of course you're not. Nor am I." He smiled and we began to laugh at each other. The sun was setting painting the sky with clementine and pink. He gathered wood from beneath the tree and I gathered water from the river. Digging a shallow circle surrounding the kindling, I left enough space for us to lay down within if we wished and drenched it to keep the fire contained. With a stick in his hand touching the one in mine, we set the fire ablaze. As the sky grew darker, the fire grew warmer and we laid for hours watching the flames. The moon rose and everything seemed to awaken once again. The fire had flooded my eyes with orange and now glancing around they indulged in hues of indigo. We sat up to face each other and as I took in the newly painted surroundings he took my hand and held it open towards him. In my palm he placed a conch shell and smiled. He kissed my lips, my nose, my cheeks, each eye lid and my forehead lingering at every spot for a few seconds. His head then rested upon my chest and he fell asleep, fingers intertwined with mine. I fell into the rhythm of our breaths as I watched the moon continue her journey before surrendering to sleep as well.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
Expression of Self
It was just about 2 years ago that I sat in front of the camera and froze, nearly paralyzed. The room was silent after several minutes of fussing around about lighting and the silence along with the feeling of 3 pairs of eyes focused on me ignited a bit of a panic attack. Of course my reactions are generally held within so I sat, still, glancing over at the only pair of eyes I found comfort in. The silence felt heavier as the moments passed and I just couldn't give what they all wanted. The idea behind all of this was an attempt to help me restart my youtube channel and the video clip was being shot professionally. When I recorded I was always alone. I set the camera how I wanted. I lit myself and the room how I wanted. If I fucked up in speech, I'd start over without the pressure of other people standing around waiting. It was something that was mine wholly and had a homegrown feel whereas this felt like a huge production and just felt wrong.
Growing up my mom used to joke that if I ever went missing she'd have no shortage of photos to show the police. This was before the digital age, when film reigned. As the internet was born to us common folks and community sites popped up left and right, my own digital imagery was born as well through fuzzy webcams and eventually my first digital camera. Somehow I stumbled upon Photoshop and spent hours playing creating designs, layouts, ads, flyers etc for myself and friends. Long before "selfie" was ever a word, I had no issues with photographing myself and using that image as somewhat of an art piece. I loved doing it. Where my mom, who hates to have herself photographed and will fight it at any cost throwing her hands across her face, views it as narcissism, I always used to view it as a celebration of oneself and the various ways that self can be manipulated. In fact, "selfies" were my therapy and artistic expression after chemo. Selfies were how I first learned to hone any kind of skill set with makeup and lighting.
In conversation with a friend a few weeks ago about blogging, she showed me her site, explained how her stats had slowly grown and asked me for my opinion and any advice. I told her that she was missing. She shares what she likes and other peoples creations giving people a sense of her style, but she is nowhere to be found in her blog. As I ran that end of year statigram thing for Instagram last week, I was shocked that all my "top 5" photos were of myself. Back in the days of Migente, Collegeclub, MySpace, Livejournal and even Youtube, I had no qualms about posting photos of myself yet in recent years for whatever reason I became extremely uncomfortable with who I was and only shared myself through photos on rare occasions - which though the viewer may have not known, were emotionally driven for me and I cherished for one reason or another. Though I won't begin youtube again until I have the means to produce to my standards, I must again become comfortable with myself and my presence. Which has been slowly happening in ways I never explored before thanks to a very trusted soul.
On my birthday I vowed to myself I would write every day. I haven't posted every day, but I've written. In light of rediscovering myself and regaining comfortability with my image and presence, I'm going to post a photo every day because I'm remembering that there's nothing wrong with celebrating oneself so why the hell not? Here are the last 3 days:
January 1st 4am
exhausted
January 2nd 1pm
Those days where I paint the sky as I please
January 3rd
There's certain ways the light always plays whenever you're in my world.
Growing up my mom used to joke that if I ever went missing she'd have no shortage of photos to show the police. This was before the digital age, when film reigned. As the internet was born to us common folks and community sites popped up left and right, my own digital imagery was born as well through fuzzy webcams and eventually my first digital camera. Somehow I stumbled upon Photoshop and spent hours playing creating designs, layouts, ads, flyers etc for myself and friends. Long before "selfie" was ever a word, I had no issues with photographing myself and using that image as somewhat of an art piece. I loved doing it. Where my mom, who hates to have herself photographed and will fight it at any cost throwing her hands across her face, views it as narcissism, I always used to view it as a celebration of oneself and the various ways that self can be manipulated. In fact, "selfies" were my therapy and artistic expression after chemo. Selfies were how I first learned to hone any kind of skill set with makeup and lighting.
In conversation with a friend a few weeks ago about blogging, she showed me her site, explained how her stats had slowly grown and asked me for my opinion and any advice. I told her that she was missing. She shares what she likes and other peoples creations giving people a sense of her style, but she is nowhere to be found in her blog. As I ran that end of year statigram thing for Instagram last week, I was shocked that all my "top 5" photos were of myself. Back in the days of Migente, Collegeclub, MySpace, Livejournal and even Youtube, I had no qualms about posting photos of myself yet in recent years for whatever reason I became extremely uncomfortable with who I was and only shared myself through photos on rare occasions - which though the viewer may have not known, were emotionally driven for me and I cherished for one reason or another. Though I won't begin youtube again until I have the means to produce to my standards, I must again become comfortable with myself and my presence. Which has been slowly happening in ways I never explored before thanks to a very trusted soul.
On my birthday I vowed to myself I would write every day. I haven't posted every day, but I've written. In light of rediscovering myself and regaining comfortability with my image and presence, I'm going to post a photo every day because I'm remembering that there's nothing wrong with celebrating oneself so why the hell not? Here are the last 3 days:
January 1st 4am
exhausted
January 2nd 1pm
Those days where I paint the sky as I please
January 3rd
There's certain ways the light always plays whenever you're in my world.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Midnight musings
I weaved my way through the flailing sea of bodies splashed with light and color, shrouded in sound and sweat, dripping with sexuality. Amidst the chaos, I mused to myself how well I moved despite how much time had passed. Though I was out of shape, in some way I am now even more precise with my movements than I was before. Surveying the crowd before me, this entire scene was my definition of an absolute nightmare while in New York and I was proud to be navigating it as well as I did.
I don't know how or why I came to feel as I did living out east but much like an addict who couldn't leave home without drugs, it came to be that I rarely left home without protection. Whether that protection was a hood for my head, headphones for my ears, herbs or any combination of crystals worn in my bra or carried in my pocket, I nearly alway had a defense mechanism on me. I always trust my instincts so I know these things were necessary to balance out the energy fields around me at the time so it amused me that last night enveloped in a sea of utter revelry and chaos, I didn't feel I needed any of them.
This isn't to say I've reverted back to allowing everything into my bubble though. I suppose my bubble just feels stronger organically as it is without the need for added assistance. It's an odd paradox as my body feels more tired - unaccustomed to this environment, yet my mind and spirit are strong enough to handle it.
Sunday a guy stopped me while I was working inquiring about my sexuality and "situation". Over the course of the next few hours he stopped me every opportunity he could in an attempt to gain more insight into what I was about and to sell himself to me. "How are you satisfied sexually?" While this question would have offended me in a major way in the past, I simply retorted that it was a loaded question and not appropriate to be asking. "But this environment is a sexually charged one." Looking around, I realized that what he said was true and that statement woke me up a bit. After spending years of my life laboring away at the club, it was an aspect I suppose I had forgotten as my purpose there 9 times out of 10 was simply to make money.
His statement and questions returned to my brain as I walked around working last night after having several women make the same inquiry. And then her words echoed in my head.
"I never realized how unfulfilling it is to be with someone lacking depth."
What did it feel like exactly? Explain.
"It felt like part of me was missing. I tried to share all of myself but she just didn't get it. She couldn't. She wasn't capable, so I just stopped talking. It was unbelievably frustrating once I came to the realization. I'm so happy you're back."
Her feeling is one I haven't known for years but I remember the frustration. I remember in some way feeling bad and almost...pity? That pity kept me beside the individual in some way for years. But once I finally let that relationship go, I was more aware of the quality of connection I desired and never settled for less.
As I worked last night, the last moments of the year brought to light how much I've changed. Walking through memories in a space that held so many, I was reminded of what I want, what I need and proud that I haven't settled. Where some seek to explore and live "freely" sexually, indulging in whatever or whomever their senses are delighted by in the moment, I'm now at a point where my bubble is strong and purposeful. I have spent years purging my spirit and don't want to create astral attachments based in momentary carnal attraction. I used to scoff at religion and the idea of waiting to have sex until marriage. I still scoff at religion and don't believe in waiting until marriage but over the past few years I've realized and directly felt the sacred quality that exists when you share sexual energy with a person. As a woman, to allow a person to physically enter me means that I am also allowing their spirit, their soul, their beliefs, their desires, their fears, their emotions, their feelings, their needs to exist within me. We essentially become tied to one another in the astral realm for a time. Through the act of sex, I make space for them to exist within me. As a selfish person, that's kind of a big deal in my world as I don't have time nor energy to deal with most people's shit. I will not risk attaching myself to anyone lacking depth for momentary pleasure.
Reflecting upon my growth, I realized I'm finally gaining ground again. I feel confident and comfortable and strong in my decisions and my existence. Part of me died last year and it feels like she's finally been laid to rest. I think I'll grow quite fond of her replacement.
I don't know how or why I came to feel as I did living out east but much like an addict who couldn't leave home without drugs, it came to be that I rarely left home without protection. Whether that protection was a hood for my head, headphones for my ears, herbs or any combination of crystals worn in my bra or carried in my pocket, I nearly alway had a defense mechanism on me. I always trust my instincts so I know these things were necessary to balance out the energy fields around me at the time so it amused me that last night enveloped in a sea of utter revelry and chaos, I didn't feel I needed any of them.
This isn't to say I've reverted back to allowing everything into my bubble though. I suppose my bubble just feels stronger organically as it is without the need for added assistance. It's an odd paradox as my body feels more tired - unaccustomed to this environment, yet my mind and spirit are strong enough to handle it.
Sunday a guy stopped me while I was working inquiring about my sexuality and "situation". Over the course of the next few hours he stopped me every opportunity he could in an attempt to gain more insight into what I was about and to sell himself to me. "How are you satisfied sexually?" While this question would have offended me in a major way in the past, I simply retorted that it was a loaded question and not appropriate to be asking. "But this environment is a sexually charged one." Looking around, I realized that what he said was true and that statement woke me up a bit. After spending years of my life laboring away at the club, it was an aspect I suppose I had forgotten as my purpose there 9 times out of 10 was simply to make money.
His statement and questions returned to my brain as I walked around working last night after having several women make the same inquiry. And then her words echoed in my head.
"I never realized how unfulfilling it is to be with someone lacking depth."
What did it feel like exactly? Explain.
"It felt like part of me was missing. I tried to share all of myself but she just didn't get it. She couldn't. She wasn't capable, so I just stopped talking. It was unbelievably frustrating once I came to the realization. I'm so happy you're back."
Her feeling is one I haven't known for years but I remember the frustration. I remember in some way feeling bad and almost...pity? That pity kept me beside the individual in some way for years. But once I finally let that relationship go, I was more aware of the quality of connection I desired and never settled for less.
As I worked last night, the last moments of the year brought to light how much I've changed. Walking through memories in a space that held so many, I was reminded of what I want, what I need and proud that I haven't settled. Where some seek to explore and live "freely" sexually, indulging in whatever or whomever their senses are delighted by in the moment, I'm now at a point where my bubble is strong and purposeful. I have spent years purging my spirit and don't want to create astral attachments based in momentary carnal attraction. I used to scoff at religion and the idea of waiting to have sex until marriage. I still scoff at religion and don't believe in waiting until marriage but over the past few years I've realized and directly felt the sacred quality that exists when you share sexual energy with a person. As a woman, to allow a person to physically enter me means that I am also allowing their spirit, their soul, their beliefs, their desires, their fears, their emotions, their feelings, their needs to exist within me. We essentially become tied to one another in the astral realm for a time. Through the act of sex, I make space for them to exist within me. As a selfish person, that's kind of a big deal in my world as I don't have time nor energy to deal with most people's shit. I will not risk attaching myself to anyone lacking depth for momentary pleasure.
Reflecting upon my growth, I realized I'm finally gaining ground again. I feel confident and comfortable and strong in my decisions and my existence. Part of me died last year and it feels like she's finally been laid to rest. I think I'll grow quite fond of her replacement.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Santa Baby...
"You have everything you need" She said.
"But what about desire?" I asked.
"Desires are how you color your life. Desire is the amount of sugar you decide to add to your coffee, the flowers you decide to grow in your garden, the choices you make which decorate your existence. Desires are the ingredients that give birth to dreams."
Christmas is the holiday of desire. What do you want? What can jolly Saint Nick provide you with to color your world and sweeten it with? Having done the mostly black and white (and thus grey) existence toned thing, its time to flesh it out. I'm ready for some more color. I went through an old box my mom kept full of our paperwork, achievements and art projects. I found notes to my fairy godmother and the tooth fairy though none to Santa. Maybe she tossed them once the "truth" was revealed? In any case its time to make use of mercurial magic and make a list and check it twice. I've been both naughty and nice.
These are some of my desires...
1. Some way of earning income that I enjoy, can help people and flex my creative powers
2. New soles for my Leeloo boots
3. Flower friends for the tree in my parents backyard
4. A bird feeder
5. A polarizing filter for my lens
6. Him in flesh
7. Tactile dome experience
8. Travel to Europe or Africa - preferably Paris, Greece, South Africa or Egypt
9. Reiki classes
10. A grant or scholarship to cover most if not all of my tuition to finish school
11. Healing my mothers sight
12. Healing my fathers hearing
13. Oil paints and a canvas
14. Silver gel pen
15. YSL burgundy mascara
16. Higher playground for my cats
17. 3 bedroom house
18. Lots of laughter
19. Immersed in light
20. A computer
21. A new dress and somewhere worth wearing it
Where kids write letters to Santa for Christmas, this list is more to her for life with a few things thrown in intended for him. She delivered as a child when I wrote to her so I believe she'll deliver once again.
"But what about desire?" I asked.
"Desires are how you color your life. Desire is the amount of sugar you decide to add to your coffee, the flowers you decide to grow in your garden, the choices you make which decorate your existence. Desires are the ingredients that give birth to dreams."
Christmas is the holiday of desire. What do you want? What can jolly Saint Nick provide you with to color your world and sweeten it with? Having done the mostly black and white (and thus grey) existence toned thing, its time to flesh it out. I'm ready for some more color. I went through an old box my mom kept full of our paperwork, achievements and art projects. I found notes to my fairy godmother and the tooth fairy though none to Santa. Maybe she tossed them once the "truth" was revealed? In any case its time to make use of mercurial magic and make a list and check it twice. I've been both naughty and nice.
These are some of my desires...
1. Some way of earning income that I enjoy, can help people and flex my creative powers
2. New soles for my Leeloo boots
3. Flower friends for the tree in my parents backyard
4. A bird feeder
5. A polarizing filter for my lens
6. Him in flesh
7. Tactile dome experience
8. Travel to Europe or Africa - preferably Paris, Greece, South Africa or Egypt
9. Reiki classes
10. A grant or scholarship to cover most if not all of my tuition to finish school
11. Healing my mothers sight
12. Healing my fathers hearing
13. Oil paints and a canvas
14. Silver gel pen
15. YSL burgundy mascara
16. Higher playground for my cats
17. 3 bedroom house
18. Lots of laughter
19. Immersed in light
20. A computer
21. A new dress and somewhere worth wearing it
Where kids write letters to Santa for Christmas, this list is more to her for life with a few things thrown in intended for him. She delivered as a child when I wrote to her so I believe she'll deliver once again.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Quality of power
It is simultaneously both terrifying and endlessly amusing just how much power a single person can hold.
My day yesterday was dreary and sleep filled. Playing catch up with everyone I hadn't seen in years drained me. Alcohol consumption, which happens once in a blue moon these days, didn't help my cause any. While talking to my ex for a few minutes before she dropped me off, my speech became less than it should be. I began to say "leaved" rather than "left" and caught myself. We had just been talking about how she's happy that I'm going back to school and I shouldn't be wasting my intelligence. So when I made that mistake in speech, my brain nearly reverted back to thinking "WTF? I thought I was done with this inarticulate, grammatically incorrect chemo infested bullshit." But she looked at me (after laughing of course), and said "See why I limit who I hang out with and how often? You absorb people easily like me." A fact which I've been very well aware of for the past few years but to hear her say it- something she never voiced in the 4 years we spent together, was kind of amazing. I had a giant *phew* moment and realized that with all the alcohol consumption I had let my bubble down and absorbed my surroundings. A moment of sadness followed as the people I was surrounded by have giant, kind hearts. But if I'm 100% honest, energetically we don't vibe as well as we used to anymore. So while I need not write them off completely, our interactions will need to stay minimal if I wish to continue refining my energy field and operate at full capacity.
Today also began dreary. It's been colder than I became accustomed to after an east coast summer and SoCal fall. The sky was overcast and for the life of me I couldn't find my thumb drive to send and print resumes. In tearing apart my belongings that have yet to be put away, an envelope fell out of The Alchemist. It instantly made me smile and so I expressed myself accordingly to the sender. I then took Scrappy out into the backyard to pee. As my phone vibrated notifying me of the responding text, the clouds literally parted. The sun peeked and then flooded my face. A Robin came and sat in my tree singing his song, showing off his beautiful red breast. The power of people...
My day yesterday was dreary and sleep filled. Playing catch up with everyone I hadn't seen in years drained me. Alcohol consumption, which happens once in a blue moon these days, didn't help my cause any. While talking to my ex for a few minutes before she dropped me off, my speech became less than it should be. I began to say "leaved" rather than "left" and caught myself. We had just been talking about how she's happy that I'm going back to school and I shouldn't be wasting my intelligence. So when I made that mistake in speech, my brain nearly reverted back to thinking "WTF? I thought I was done with this inarticulate, grammatically incorrect chemo infested bullshit." But she looked at me (after laughing of course), and said "See why I limit who I hang out with and how often? You absorb people easily like me." A fact which I've been very well aware of for the past few years but to hear her say it- something she never voiced in the 4 years we spent together, was kind of amazing. I had a giant *phew* moment and realized that with all the alcohol consumption I had let my bubble down and absorbed my surroundings. A moment of sadness followed as the people I was surrounded by have giant, kind hearts. But if I'm 100% honest, energetically we don't vibe as well as we used to anymore. So while I need not write them off completely, our interactions will need to stay minimal if I wish to continue refining my energy field and operate at full capacity.
Today also began dreary. It's been colder than I became accustomed to after an east coast summer and SoCal fall. The sky was overcast and for the life of me I couldn't find my thumb drive to send and print resumes. In tearing apart my belongings that have yet to be put away, an envelope fell out of The Alchemist. It instantly made me smile and so I expressed myself accordingly to the sender. I then took Scrappy out into the backyard to pee. As my phone vibrated notifying me of the responding text, the clouds literally parted. The sun peeked and then flooded my face. A Robin came and sat in my tree singing his song, showing off his beautiful red breast. The power of people...
Monday, December 2, 2013
I contact
Last night I celebrated the birthday of someone I've known since I was 10. Her actual birthday isn't until Saturday but as I was already up and moving around the city, I went with the flow and accepted the invitation. I wondered who aside from my parents I'd actually see first upon moving back. I didn't think it would be my ex but I guess that's how she wanted it to play out. Walking up the stairs to my old job, though it of course felt familiar, also felt like I was time traveling and had been away for centuries. My attendance had been kept a secret so when I showed my face, the reactions were interesting. My sobriety versus everyone's inebriation and having been gone for so long colored my sight in a hue that had grown in saturation. I felt a sense of sadness at how little appeared to have changed. Yet, there were new dynamics to appreciate and familiar eyes to get found in.
The last year in NY I existed mainly as a hermit. People drained me. The job I had left me stressed, anxiety ridden and exhausted. I spoke with very few people and gave even less my eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and quite frankly I was too drained to share any more of my soul with anyone never mind desire to take anyone else's in. Last night I realized that it's only really been in the last month that I've engaged in any kind of serious eye contact. Upon visiting my best friend, my eyes felt like they could finally breathe again. He told me my eyes brought him a sense of calm. Which was nice to hear and relieved me after not giving it up for such a long period of time. As a scorpion, eye contact is everything to me. A persons eyes reveal their heart and I had somewhat starved myself.
I don't know why I didn't consider that she would be there last night, but she was. The first person I dated upon re-entering the world after my illness. At the bar she pounced upon seeing me, lifting me off my feet and swinging me around babbling about NY and how long was I in town etc etc. We had an immediate bond when we initially met and went through a few years of awkwardness after our intimacy ceased. I don't remember when that finally healed itself but I had forgotten just how strong our bond was.
The party group moved to my friends house and so we all had a somewhat more quiet environment to hang out in. By this point I had a drink in my system and being a lightweight don't recall how the conversation began, nor a lot of what it was about but what astounded me and sat with me long after was the near uninterrupted direct eye contact that happened throughout the course of our exchange. This doesn't exist with everyone I interact with even when I am feeling up to sharing my soul. Not everyone can handle the intensity so when I find those who can, there's this deep, calm yet exciting warmth that seems to creep through me. There's a recognition that occurs, something clicks and the only words that seem to echo are "I know" as both pairs of eyes smile and beam at each other. It's really more of "I" contact when this happens. Recognizing yourself in another.
The last year in NY I existed mainly as a hermit. People drained me. The job I had left me stressed, anxiety ridden and exhausted. I spoke with very few people and gave even less my eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and quite frankly I was too drained to share any more of my soul with anyone never mind desire to take anyone else's in. Last night I realized that it's only really been in the last month that I've engaged in any kind of serious eye contact. Upon visiting my best friend, my eyes felt like they could finally breathe again. He told me my eyes brought him a sense of calm. Which was nice to hear and relieved me after not giving it up for such a long period of time. As a scorpion, eye contact is everything to me. A persons eyes reveal their heart and I had somewhat starved myself.
I don't know why I didn't consider that she would be there last night, but she was. The first person I dated upon re-entering the world after my illness. At the bar she pounced upon seeing me, lifting me off my feet and swinging me around babbling about NY and how long was I in town etc etc. We had an immediate bond when we initially met and went through a few years of awkwardness after our intimacy ceased. I don't remember when that finally healed itself but I had forgotten just how strong our bond was.
The party group moved to my friends house and so we all had a somewhat more quiet environment to hang out in. By this point I had a drink in my system and being a lightweight don't recall how the conversation began, nor a lot of what it was about but what astounded me and sat with me long after was the near uninterrupted direct eye contact that happened throughout the course of our exchange. This doesn't exist with everyone I interact with even when I am feeling up to sharing my soul. Not everyone can handle the intensity so when I find those who can, there's this deep, calm yet exciting warmth that seems to creep through me. There's a recognition that occurs, something clicks and the only words that seem to echo are "I know" as both pairs of eyes smile and beam at each other. It's really more of "I" contact when this happens. Recognizing yourself in another.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Sensory Snacks
This morning the clover called me outside. Bejeweled with a mixture of sun and dew, our yard took on a rainbow hue. 2 doves sat nestled in the tree as a teeny hummingbird came to greet me.
Today was more of a visual aural kind of trip down memory lane with both the past and present colliding. Possibly the future as well, though I don't like to predict those kinds of things. An old partner in crime whom I haven't seen nor really heard from since my sophmore year of high school added me on Facebook. I "ran away" to his house when I was 14. That wasn't my initial intention but it kinda sorta happened momentarily. Long story not worth jotting down but needless to say my brain flooded with the hours we all spent together before and after school being bad asses. As life would have it, hours after our initial contact, I accompanied my mom to get her hair cut. The salon is in a neighborhood I spent 4 years trotting through each day after school with said being along with others. So as I waited, I walked around to explore this blooming neighborhood that once was pretty desolate. My soul was soothed with the random street art I saw as it's been a bit starved since leaving Brooklyn. After just writing about flight, the first piece I stumbled upon was none other than Ms. Amelia Earhart.
We walked and walked and walked some more. My mom is used to driving but her car broke down so it was back to basics and my own favorite. The sun was warm and I began to sweat, layered in clothes forgetting how each neighborhood here has its own climate. So much has changed since I've been away and today was quite beautiful rediscovering the city I was born in. She's blooming.
Today was more of a visual aural kind of trip down memory lane with both the past and present colliding. Possibly the future as well, though I don't like to predict those kinds of things. An old partner in crime whom I haven't seen nor really heard from since my sophmore year of high school added me on Facebook. I "ran away" to his house when I was 14. That wasn't my initial intention but it kinda sorta happened momentarily. Long story not worth jotting down but needless to say my brain flooded with the hours we all spent together before and after school being bad asses. As life would have it, hours after our initial contact, I accompanied my mom to get her hair cut. The salon is in a neighborhood I spent 4 years trotting through each day after school with said being along with others. So as I waited, I walked around to explore this blooming neighborhood that once was pretty desolate. My soul was soothed with the random street art I saw as it's been a bit starved since leaving Brooklyn. After just writing about flight, the first piece I stumbled upon was none other than Ms. Amelia Earhart.
We walked and walked and walked some more. My mom is used to driving but her car broke down so it was back to basics and my own favorite. The sun was warm and I began to sweat, layered in clothes forgetting how each neighborhood here has its own climate. So much has changed since I've been away and today was quite beautiful rediscovering the city I was born in. She's blooming.
Friday, November 29, 2013
It's virtues, not it's sins are as scarlet.
"...There is your crop; here is mine. Mine is a sugar to sweeten sugar with. If you will listen to me, I will sweeten your whole load,--your whole life."
- Henry David Thoreau
It seems as though my world has been in a constant state of transformation lately. Which is good. I am a transformer and thus expect and welcome chaos to follow my moves so I may properly organize everything. It won't remain this way once everything is in its place. Until of course it's time to grow again. Changing with the season, giving reason to live another day.
The first and second nights back in San Francisco I spent going through my bookshelf. Old photos are always my first go to but with this writing kick I've been on, and wanting to throw stuff away (Leaving NY I realized I'm a paper hoarder and that must cease to be immediately), I sat at the dining room table and went through 2 file folders containing both college and high school papers. Papers I hadn't even peeked at in over a decade. One of the first things I found was a drawn out diagram of our family tree from 10th grade. Reading my 15 year old selfs fancy schmancy penmanship written in pink ink, I was flooded with feelings and memories and wanderlust. On my dads side I only know as far back as my great great great grandfather. Sadly, his wife's name I marked as "unknown". Being of the female species myself, my great great grandmother has been one of the names that has floated in my memory banks since I first learned it, Philomena Mammeucci. While presenting our project, a classmate and I mused how maybe we were distantly related as his last name was identical though the two m's were t's and when people came to America, names were often changed and written incorrectly. My dad was of the first generation on his side to be born in this country and after learning of all these uniquely named people that had lived their lives across an entire ocean, it ignited my first spark of wanderlust. While I have yet to visit Italy, or Europe in any capacity, reading the names has once again stirred...something. On my mom's side, for whatever reason, much less is known and I'm grateful for the information I was able to get out of my grandmother while she was still lucid. Though I also still have yet to visit Spain, I need only drive down Valencia street here in San Francisco to in some way get close to my great great grandmother on that side, Carmelita Valencia. The street was named after our families property apparently.
So as I'm revisiting the roots of our own family tree, my mom starts complaining about the amount of electronics my dad has in our garage as he has his own business and works from home. "I can't even get someone in here to cut down that tree because he's blocking the garage door with all of his stuff." The blood of my faerie side began to boil and I exploded "Cut down what tree? Why would you cut down a tree?" She sighed annoyed "Whoever planted that tree was an idiot. Who the hell plants a tree in the middle of a yard? It's in the way, nothing can even really be done out there!" I began to whine with fire in my eyes "It's a living thing. You can't just kill it." In all fairness she had a good comeback "Risa I'm a living thing too and whether I have 5 or 10 years of life left (she's 60 - insert eyeroll), I want to be able to enjoy them." I could write an entire book on my mother and how I wish I could teach an old dog new tricks (I never stop trying), but for now I'll just say that the tree isn't preventing her joy in any capacity.
So the next morning I went outside to say hello and take a look at her. The last maple I was friends with lived outside my apartment in Crown Heights. She received so many of my thoughts, my fears, my love, my wonder, my tears. She housed birds that came to visit me, squirrels while they played, filtered the sun and shared her beauty and knowledge throughout 10 seasons. The saddest part of leaving that apartment was moving away from her. Both apartments that followed lacked a tree to befriend. And so I was excited to see my old friend that morning. She still has a screw and a bit of chain hanging out of her bark from days when I spent hours hanging upside down from my knees swinging as I wanted to be a trapeze artist. Glancing at her base I recall spending hours playing with the beetles I found there. Looking up at her arms I remember the nest that once lived nuzzled between them. Winter is nearly upon us and though the seasons aren't as harsh out here, she has shed nearly all of her leaves and stands almost naked smack dab in the center of our yard. I don't know when it happened, but Spanish moss has begun to clothe her beautiful branches, and I'll be damned if I allow anyone to cut her down.
- Henry David Thoreau
It seems as though my world has been in a constant state of transformation lately. Which is good. I am a transformer and thus expect and welcome chaos to follow my moves so I may properly organize everything. It won't remain this way once everything is in its place. Until of course it's time to grow again. Changing with the season, giving reason to live another day.
The first and second nights back in San Francisco I spent going through my bookshelf. Old photos are always my first go to but with this writing kick I've been on, and wanting to throw stuff away (Leaving NY I realized I'm a paper hoarder and that must cease to be immediately), I sat at the dining room table and went through 2 file folders containing both college and high school papers. Papers I hadn't even peeked at in over a decade. One of the first things I found was a drawn out diagram of our family tree from 10th grade. Reading my 15 year old selfs fancy schmancy penmanship written in pink ink, I was flooded with feelings and memories and wanderlust. On my dads side I only know as far back as my great great great grandfather. Sadly, his wife's name I marked as "unknown". Being of the female species myself, my great great grandmother has been one of the names that has floated in my memory banks since I first learned it, Philomena Mammeucci. While presenting our project, a classmate and I mused how maybe we were distantly related as his last name was identical though the two m's were t's and when people came to America, names were often changed and written incorrectly. My dad was of the first generation on his side to be born in this country and after learning of all these uniquely named people that had lived their lives across an entire ocean, it ignited my first spark of wanderlust. While I have yet to visit Italy, or Europe in any capacity, reading the names has once again stirred...something. On my mom's side, for whatever reason, much less is known and I'm grateful for the information I was able to get out of my grandmother while she was still lucid. Though I also still have yet to visit Spain, I need only drive down Valencia street here in San Francisco to in some way get close to my great great grandmother on that side, Carmelita Valencia. The street was named after our families property apparently.
So as I'm revisiting the roots of our own family tree, my mom starts complaining about the amount of electronics my dad has in our garage as he has his own business and works from home. "I can't even get someone in here to cut down that tree because he's blocking the garage door with all of his stuff." The blood of my faerie side began to boil and I exploded "Cut down what tree? Why would you cut down a tree?" She sighed annoyed "Whoever planted that tree was an idiot. Who the hell plants a tree in the middle of a yard? It's in the way, nothing can even really be done out there!" I began to whine with fire in my eyes "It's a living thing. You can't just kill it." In all fairness she had a good comeback "Risa I'm a living thing too and whether I have 5 or 10 years of life left (she's 60 - insert eyeroll), I want to be able to enjoy them." I could write an entire book on my mother and how I wish I could teach an old dog new tricks (I never stop trying), but for now I'll just say that the tree isn't preventing her joy in any capacity.
So the next morning I went outside to say hello and take a look at her. The last maple I was friends with lived outside my apartment in Crown Heights. She received so many of my thoughts, my fears, my love, my wonder, my tears. She housed birds that came to visit me, squirrels while they played, filtered the sun and shared her beauty and knowledge throughout 10 seasons. The saddest part of leaving that apartment was moving away from her. Both apartments that followed lacked a tree to befriend. And so I was excited to see my old friend that morning. She still has a screw and a bit of chain hanging out of her bark from days when I spent hours hanging upside down from my knees swinging as I wanted to be a trapeze artist. Glancing at her base I recall spending hours playing with the beetles I found there. Looking up at her arms I remember the nest that once lived nuzzled between them. Winter is nearly upon us and though the seasons aren't as harsh out here, she has shed nearly all of her leaves and stands almost naked smack dab in the center of our yard. I don't know when it happened, but Spanish moss has begun to clothe her beautiful branches, and I'll be damned if I allow anyone to cut her down.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Uranian Alien
I'm not sure why but I've never liked being called names. Or rather, when I give that statement more thought, I've never taken kindly to someone else defining me. While I realize that kids tease and it's just what they do, as an adult I realize I mostly had it pretty easy comparatively. Yet regardless, if there was one thing that got my blood absolutely boiling and exploding with tears, it was being called a name. "Casper" followed me through several years, Dolly Parton Jr. (I developed early), Jessica Rabbit, Powder and the worst and the earliest from 1st grade onwards: Risa's Pieces.
Writing that list I feel silly. But what it all boiled down to was simply "Who the fuck are you to define me?" On top of the fact that rarely have I been comfortable with the amount of attention I receive. Especially for something as base as body parts. My mom tried to teach me, she really did. She would tell me to own it with a comeback like "At least I'm sweet!" (In response to Risa's pieces) But it still got under my skin like no other. Obviously I've learned to own it as an adult and ET was the one who changed my mind. If an alien loved the candy, then maybe it wasn't so bad.
My mom has always driven me slightly crazy. I suppose that's what a mothers job is but the more I become reacquainted with myself, I'm realizing that in my case, she was and still is teaching me to own a part of my light that I've struggled with since birth. She is an Aquarius, ruled by Uranus.
As in my last post discussing my dynamic duo of love and death, my light, my sun, simply cannot be defined without the revolutionary spirit Uranus embodies. They too, are joined at the hip for better or for worse in this soul of mine. (S)he is androgynous. A fiery and feisty bizarre being stirring up the status quo. (S)he intuits messages unheard by the masses and inspires revolution to occur so higher, enlightened ideals may be acheived. Needless to say, those who live their quiet comfy lives content to stagnate don't always receive Uranus well, especially tied to a Plutonic sun. My light is that of an Uranian alien. Where Saturn is about restriction, Uranus is boundless and doesn't wish to be defined as that would only limit all that (s)he is and can be. So as a child, I fought being put in box. I'll decide which box to put myself in, and then shift it when and how I see fit.
I have tempered myself over the years, and shunned my light in recent ones. If I am to wholly accept myself and shine my light with all my might I must 100% own the gift that my Mother has given me and accept that I am bizarre in moments, crazy to those who can't see, and will piss people off by stirring up their lives. Yet I trust and own that this gift I've been given is for the greater good of those I touch, whether they or I can see it or not. Today I am grateful for rediscovering another piece of myself.
Writing that list I feel silly. But what it all boiled down to was simply "Who the fuck are you to define me?" On top of the fact that rarely have I been comfortable with the amount of attention I receive. Especially for something as base as body parts. My mom tried to teach me, she really did. She would tell me to own it with a comeback like "At least I'm sweet!" (In response to Risa's pieces) But it still got under my skin like no other. Obviously I've learned to own it as an adult and ET was the one who changed my mind. If an alien loved the candy, then maybe it wasn't so bad.
My mom has always driven me slightly crazy. I suppose that's what a mothers job is but the more I become reacquainted with myself, I'm realizing that in my case, she was and still is teaching me to own a part of my light that I've struggled with since birth. She is an Aquarius, ruled by Uranus.
As in my last post discussing my dynamic duo of love and death, my light, my sun, simply cannot be defined without the revolutionary spirit Uranus embodies. They too, are joined at the hip for better or for worse in this soul of mine. (S)he is androgynous. A fiery and feisty bizarre being stirring up the status quo. (S)he intuits messages unheard by the masses and inspires revolution to occur so higher, enlightened ideals may be acheived. Needless to say, those who live their quiet comfy lives content to stagnate don't always receive Uranus well, especially tied to a Plutonic sun. My light is that of an Uranian alien. Where Saturn is about restriction, Uranus is boundless and doesn't wish to be defined as that would only limit all that (s)he is and can be. So as a child, I fought being put in box. I'll decide which box to put myself in, and then shift it when and how I see fit.
I have tempered myself over the years, and shunned my light in recent ones. If I am to wholly accept myself and shine my light with all my might I must 100% own the gift that my Mother has given me and accept that I am bizarre in moments, crazy to those who can't see, and will piss people off by stirring up their lives. Yet I trust and own that this gift I've been given is for the greater good of those I touch, whether they or I can see it or not. Today I am grateful for rediscovering another piece of myself.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
The passion of lovers is for death said she
"I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!"
-Oscar Wilde
One of the last books I (re)read, was The Valkyries by Paulo Coelho. The theme of the book is founded upon the notion that we tend to kill the things we love the most and explores why we commit this crime against ourselves. It tells a story of the author journeying on a road trip with his wife in an attempt to learn how to speak to his angel.
Though nearly every single book of Coelho's has resonated with some part of me at some point in my life, it was this book that caused a vibration to stir deep down inside some place of myself that I had forgotten about. I've been speaking of Venus often and in all fairness if I am to speak of her, I must also speak of him. Pluto. Hades. Whatever name you'd like to attribute to him, he is quite simply the King of the underworld. He is the Grim Reaper and tends to the seeds we plant deep down within our being. He is death. He is sex. He is rebirth. My own view of him is the paternal personification of the dark Mother. He carries his torch within her womb providing nourishment to the pieces of ourselves we may have forgotten about, shoved deep down within.
The way in which my unique energy structure came to enter this life, is with her, Venus, and him, Pluto as eternal playmates, lovers and friends. Attached at the hip, wherever Venus decides to bask in the sunshine, Pluto can be found laying in the shade of an umbrella beside her, hands intertwined, smiling as she beams. Souls within this soul of mine, they are each others mates.
I'm taken back to visions of Mya's video for "My Love is like Whoa". As someone who took tap dance for 13 years, I remember how enamored I was with her bringing a craft I held so close to my heart into mainstream society. On top of the fact that she began the video perched in a zoot suit, smoking a cigar, dressed like a dude and yet oozing with the power of her femininity. The lyrics, well, they speak for themselves. And I remember feeling like somehow she had observed my life and was writing about me. I love hard. Some may say I love too hard. But that's me, it's how I exist and I don't know how else to love. All or nothing. My love is like whoa... I've tried to temper it which does nothing but distort my actions and sentiments.
On twitter recently someone described Pluto as the dark stranger in the alley who sends chills of fear up your spine. I replied that he only manifests as such if you're not in touch with your dark side. I am an avid defender of him as he is so close to my heart. And as a Solar, Mercurial and Uranian Scorpion, (which he rules alongside Mars), he is my light, how I see, how I hear, how I speak, how I love and my vision. I see and I feel the dark side of others. Those pieces they hide away from the world and themselves. It's not always pretty and yet I always see beauty as the struggle to hide away those pieces that are bursting to come forth is such a beautifully arduous process. It's watching cells split beneath a microscope, a seed bursting open and pushing its way through the soil to eventually shoot up towards the sun.
I have found that quite a lot of people, self included, grow afraid of themselves. Why, I cannot answer. As children many of us become afraid of the dark, the monsters under our bed and skeletons in our closet. As someone who loves the dark side of others and someone who loves hard, I've often found myself in a conundrum as people push me away. I don't think I realized that I too, have done it myself over the course of the years. If we can't love ourselves wholly, including our dark side, or more potently, if we for some awful reason feel as though we don't deserve to be loved wholly, then who the hell is this other person to do so. Off with her head! And here's a dagger through the heart as well. Must kill this scary beast.
For some, I believe it's an issue of trust. That was my reason at least. Not knowing what will burst forth from the depths of the underworld can be scary and its a life long process (hopefully). When you don't really take the time to explore every shadow and get to know who you are and accept who you are, how can you trust yourself? And if you can't trust yourself wholly, you can forget about trusting someone else completely. And so the cycle continues. Who is this person? How dare they come shining their light inside my darkness! We then attempt to surround ourselves with people who are content to take us at a superficial level. People who likely wouldn't even understand our dark side if we dared to reveal it. People who quite simply don't ignite our shadows. But the universe is wise and light cannot exist without darkness. She will do as she does and whisper in our ears, send scent filled winds our way and haunt us until we somehow, someway are brought back face to face with our other side.
I'm unsure what my own body count is at exactly but I've maimed quite a few. And in all reality, none of them had to die but they were either pieces of myself that were too painful to admit existed or whom I didn't believe I deserved simply because I did not value myself wholly. As with his book, I too have finally learned how to speak with my angel and from where I stand right now, with Pluto's fingers clutching my own, no one else will die without the other aspect of death which is rebirth.
And somehow, I've stumbled upon a sketch from years ago that resurfaced directly after posting this. Life continues to amuse... :)
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!"
-Oscar Wilde
One of the last books I (re)read, was The Valkyries by Paulo Coelho. The theme of the book is founded upon the notion that we tend to kill the things we love the most and explores why we commit this crime against ourselves. It tells a story of the author journeying on a road trip with his wife in an attempt to learn how to speak to his angel.
Though nearly every single book of Coelho's has resonated with some part of me at some point in my life, it was this book that caused a vibration to stir deep down inside some place of myself that I had forgotten about. I've been speaking of Venus often and in all fairness if I am to speak of her, I must also speak of him. Pluto. Hades. Whatever name you'd like to attribute to him, he is quite simply the King of the underworld. He is the Grim Reaper and tends to the seeds we plant deep down within our being. He is death. He is sex. He is rebirth. My own view of him is the paternal personification of the dark Mother. He carries his torch within her womb providing nourishment to the pieces of ourselves we may have forgotten about, shoved deep down within.
The way in which my unique energy structure came to enter this life, is with her, Venus, and him, Pluto as eternal playmates, lovers and friends. Attached at the hip, wherever Venus decides to bask in the sunshine, Pluto can be found laying in the shade of an umbrella beside her, hands intertwined, smiling as she beams. Souls within this soul of mine, they are each others mates.
I'm taken back to visions of Mya's video for "My Love is like Whoa". As someone who took tap dance for 13 years, I remember how enamored I was with her bringing a craft I held so close to my heart into mainstream society. On top of the fact that she began the video perched in a zoot suit, smoking a cigar, dressed like a dude and yet oozing with the power of her femininity. The lyrics, well, they speak for themselves. And I remember feeling like somehow she had observed my life and was writing about me. I love hard. Some may say I love too hard. But that's me, it's how I exist and I don't know how else to love. All or nothing. My love is like whoa... I've tried to temper it which does nothing but distort my actions and sentiments.
On twitter recently someone described Pluto as the dark stranger in the alley who sends chills of fear up your spine. I replied that he only manifests as such if you're not in touch with your dark side. I am an avid defender of him as he is so close to my heart. And as a Solar, Mercurial and Uranian Scorpion, (which he rules alongside Mars), he is my light, how I see, how I hear, how I speak, how I love and my vision. I see and I feel the dark side of others. Those pieces they hide away from the world and themselves. It's not always pretty and yet I always see beauty as the struggle to hide away those pieces that are bursting to come forth is such a beautifully arduous process. It's watching cells split beneath a microscope, a seed bursting open and pushing its way through the soil to eventually shoot up towards the sun.
I have found that quite a lot of people, self included, grow afraid of themselves. Why, I cannot answer. As children many of us become afraid of the dark, the monsters under our bed and skeletons in our closet. As someone who loves the dark side of others and someone who loves hard, I've often found myself in a conundrum as people push me away. I don't think I realized that I too, have done it myself over the course of the years. If we can't love ourselves wholly, including our dark side, or more potently, if we for some awful reason feel as though we don't deserve to be loved wholly, then who the hell is this other person to do so. Off with her head! And here's a dagger through the heart as well. Must kill this scary beast.
For some, I believe it's an issue of trust. That was my reason at least. Not knowing what will burst forth from the depths of the underworld can be scary and its a life long process (hopefully). When you don't really take the time to explore every shadow and get to know who you are and accept who you are, how can you trust yourself? And if you can't trust yourself wholly, you can forget about trusting someone else completely. And so the cycle continues. Who is this person? How dare they come shining their light inside my darkness! We then attempt to surround ourselves with people who are content to take us at a superficial level. People who likely wouldn't even understand our dark side if we dared to reveal it. People who quite simply don't ignite our shadows. But the universe is wise and light cannot exist without darkness. She will do as she does and whisper in our ears, send scent filled winds our way and haunt us until we somehow, someway are brought back face to face with our other side.
I'm unsure what my own body count is at exactly but I've maimed quite a few. And in all reality, none of them had to die but they were either pieces of myself that were too painful to admit existed or whom I didn't believe I deserved simply because I did not value myself wholly. As with his book, I too have finally learned how to speak with my angel and from where I stand right now, with Pluto's fingers clutching my own, no one else will die without the other aspect of death which is rebirth.
And somehow, I've stumbled upon a sketch from years ago that resurfaced directly after posting this. Life continues to amuse... :)
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