seeing how to let go.
here i sit....face all tingly with new avada face wash, skin clean and tucked in for bed.
i sit on my blue wool couch from norway, right underneath the window.
i just got up and opened it - and got my chapstick and water.
sigh. deep, deep sigh.
that air smells so good.
drunken goblins walking by my house in giggle and booze...
ah, thursday night.
i sit on my blue wool couch from norway, right underneath the window.
i just got up and opened it - and got my chapstick and water.
sigh. deep, deep sigh.
that air smells so good.
drunken goblins walking by my house in giggle and booze...
ah, thursday night.
DISCLAIMER:
this is gonna be a long one. so grab your cozys and coffetea and sit with me a while.
i promise to go easy on you.
this is gonna be a long one. so grab your cozys and coffetea and sit with me a while.
i promise to go easy on you.
for though nature should never deign to equate she and i,
i desire for this to be a place for you that is much like the maple leaf that steals your breath as you walk home, or the tree whose eerie swaying of the wind makes your spirit wonder if you have company, or when you finally stop hearing the sound of your heels on concrete because you turned up goldfrapp way too loud and then saw the space needle between two buildings- and it surprised you with a strange sensation.
i think it's called joy.
or whatever.
i marvel at the human gift of vicariousness.
due to some cosmic crashes in my favor,
i now have women in my life unlike any women i have ever known.
and my thoughts go to them now:
due to some cosmic crashes in my favor,
i now have women in my life unlike any women i have ever known.
and my thoughts go to them now:
i think of her with that enviable posture.
she's sitting on her crown of turquoise and orange
smelling the sweetness of her lighted candles in vigil, this waxen warmth easing her.
i hear her swirling sounds of clinky, patron-infused ice.
she finally let herself relax just one second ago.
i felt it.
her redwood exhale slithers in dichotomous mystery and warmth
through the night air to my window.
i am with her.
i thought of her while in the tub.
thinking of her grapes and loneliness.
feeling a pull inside to grab her child cheeks,
tell her that every little word she shares is so important
for so many people.
i channel her confidence.
knowing her restoration will come home soon and come home
safe.
i am with her aussi.
i jump a time zone;
i think of the red-streaked raven struggling to settle.
geisha light strokes her hair, shushing her into easier thoughts of herself.
her thoughts linger on dance, laughter, preparation, prayer.
she expels stress.
she misses,
she plans,
she is here and everywhere.
she waxes poesy.
i am also with her.
i think of my red...
nurtured finally by someone without question, without trial, without earning.
she doesn't have to think of anything but laughter, food, bosom, and booze.
finally.
i ache to give her the answers and paths, but she ends up
guiding me.
i can't seem to shake her. estoy con ella. siempre.
she's sitting on her crown of turquoise and orange
smelling the sweetness of her lighted candles in vigil, this waxen warmth easing her.
i hear her swirling sounds of clinky, patron-infused ice.
she finally let herself relax just one second ago.
i felt it.
her redwood exhale slithers in dichotomous mystery and warmth
through the night air to my window.
i am with her.
i thought of her while in the tub.
thinking of her grapes and loneliness.
feeling a pull inside to grab her child cheeks,
tell her that every little word she shares is so important
for so many people.
i channel her confidence.
knowing her restoration will come home soon and come home
safe.
i am with her aussi.
i jump a time zone;
i think of the red-streaked raven struggling to settle.
geisha light strokes her hair, shushing her into easier thoughts of herself.
her thoughts linger on dance, laughter, preparation, prayer.
she expels stress.
she misses,
she plans,
she is here and everywhere.
she waxes poesy.
i am also with her.
i think of my red...
nurtured finally by someone without question, without trial, without earning.
she doesn't have to think of anything but laughter, food, bosom, and booze.
finally.
i ache to give her the answers and paths, but she ends up
guiding me.
i can't seem to shake her. estoy con ella. siempre.
_________________________
the week has been grity and murky for me.
obsessions stuck to my hypersensitive porcupine-skin and spewed their venom into my belly.
i beat them up with analysis and words.
they beat me up with their incessant insistence and gripping claws of death.
but today - because i stared it down yesterday with all the bravery my mustard sweater could, well...muster,
and just when it was beginning to end me,
it culminated into the most fundamental alchemic formula.
and i finally had an answer.
forgive.
sheepish, childlike, chastised by the sheer simplicity of it;
my internal matriarch obese with the wisdom of her years.
i hear her tone.
forgive.
can you imagine? me? me! the know it all - the "i know myself so well?"
i didn't even know i was hurt.
sometimes my analytic nerosis numbs those senses.
(and it's such a highly-evolved and clever defence mechanism, don't you think?)
i foolishly think i can counsel myself out of pain.
not so.
not so.
it MUST be STARED DOWN, felt, embraced...
and then bandaged with the most adorable and whimsical little band aid.
mine is called Maker's Mark.
so over a bottle, i have a date with my resentment.
i will sit with my soul, stare down my skin through the empty glass
all the way to bottom,
cry,
vomit,
and exsponge the poison - suck out the disease of bitterness like a leech.
and though i cannot stomach (or should i say "liver") this just yet,
even the thought has brought the hint of release to the knot of obsession and anxiety.
i can tell.
i can feel it already.
______________________
something funny is happening with my vestiments.
i am putting together outfits that i always used to talk myself out of.
today, por ejemplo.
"Alright already, sheesh...I will wear both," I patronized.
Apparently, the wee little one inside needed to feel:
-frivolous
-rediculoso
-mischievous
-like she was just a bit too much.
i released two.
i wore two.
oh the poetic symmetry.
the week has been grity and murky for me.
obsessions stuck to my hypersensitive porcupine-skin and spewed their venom into my belly.
i beat them up with analysis and words.
they beat me up with their incessant insistence and gripping claws of death.
but today - because i stared it down yesterday with all the bravery my mustard sweater could, well...muster,
and just when it was beginning to end me,
it culminated into the most fundamental alchemic formula.
and i finally had an answer.
forgive.
sheepish, childlike, chastised by the sheer simplicity of it;
my internal matriarch obese with the wisdom of her years.
i hear her tone.
forgive.
can you imagine? me? me! the know it all - the "i know myself so well?"
i didn't even know i was hurt.
sometimes my analytic nerosis numbs those senses.
(and it's such a highly-evolved and clever defence mechanism, don't you think?)
i foolishly think i can counsel myself out of pain.
not so.
not so.
it MUST be STARED DOWN, felt, embraced...
and then bandaged with the most adorable and whimsical little band aid.
mine is called Maker's Mark.
so over a bottle, i have a date with my resentment.
i will sit with my soul, stare down my skin through the empty glass
all the way to bottom,
cry,
vomit,
and exsponge the poison - suck out the disease of bitterness like a leech.
and though i cannot stomach (or should i say "liver") this just yet,
even the thought has brought the hint of release to the knot of obsession and anxiety.
i can tell.
i can feel it already.
______________________
something funny is happening with my vestiments.
i am putting together outfits that i always used to talk myself out of.
today, por ejemplo.
i, me, moi...for the FIRST time in history, wore TWO necklaces. I could tell that one looked WAY better than wearing the two, but something inside me screamed to wear both.
"Alright already, sheesh...I will wear both," I patronized.
-frivolous
-rediculoso
-mischievous
-like she was just a bit too much.
i released two.
i wore two.
oh the poetic symmetry.
coffeetea cold yet?
mine is.
fetch me a warm up, will ya ol' chap?
mine is.
fetch me a warm up, will ya ol' chap?
you're great company,
~crm
~crm
8 comments:
no words.
simply letting all of this settle around me like the most gracious cloak of kindredship, the sparkling clink of precious stones, the secrets sewn underneath most exquisite feathers.
thanks for the comment & encouragement. i'll send snapshots of the desert. but, first: we should meet for drinks!
"i foolishly think i can counsel myself out of pain."
Mia amica, sometimes I feel I need no words because you have already said them for me. This may be one of the most beautiful posts I have ever read, your raw confessions comfort me in my own struggling space.
I,too, stare down my soul. The sneer is laced with nicotine, whiskey, and Dylan (Bob and Thomas). Forgiveness, though, that is something I can't muster.
I cry whenever I read what you write:
For the beauty of it.
For the joy of it.
For the glimpse I often catch of you shooting skyward, battered by strong winds, nurtured by the light, shining wet in the rain.
I love you.
More.
Than I did yesterday.
dearlings,
here's to the secrets sewn under the most exquisite feathers indeed.
mandy - yes, i agree! pictures of desert comes post cocktails...POSTHASTE.
kelly - i think of you so often as i write and bring forth the one woman that emerges as a result of the collective beauty we share. i am do privileged that you love me like this.
my biggest fan and monkey bird,
i can share. forgivness is an ancient cobble-stoned street lined with willows (and little shots of dylan-whiskey cocktails every ten steps). it's our destiny.
jsl-
i feel it emerging - "the trainling crm-ness" and like the suit you have come to don well, i choose to see that crm-ness as it is.
a peice of art.
because i was breathed into.
and only by the divine.
but by lady birds such as yourself.
(joel woke me up with tea and bisquts this moring and as we talked in the morning freshness,listening to Maltman sing DeBussy, he mentioned how he loved you and our friendship and wanted to take care of you and make sure you had a good breakfast; that you have become more and more real. welcome to being loved by the morris's. if you have one, you have them all.)
je suis avec vous aussi, mon coeur. comme d'habbitude.
Forgive - damn - how did i miss that one? could it be that i must likewise forgive? does forgiveness mean i have to tell him i'm in CA?
does forgiveness demand my innocence?
are those who forgive, forgiven?
when did i forget all of this. i know there was a time i was so sure of mercy, so quick to release and even lift up in my stead. what bitter hold has age on my heart that i am robbed of years lived loving?
did we trade naivete for resentment? did we loose entitlement on selflessness?
i know we've grown and love well, but what has it cost us?
mme. matriarch, bless you for nurturing my dearest with wisdom, compassion and for anointing her with the oil of gladness.
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