Fall

The previous months have passed gently as the late Indian summer, typical of San Francisco dwelling, turned its attention to fall and fog. I am not sure why fall is my favorite season but there is actually a feeling that resonates in my body in response to this season and it makes me feel warm, grateful and glad.

Recently I noted a change within myself. I am suddenly more spirited and more interested in partaking in the fun traditions of our culture. In other words, I went shoppingfor Halloween costumes and had great fun doing it. Its been years since I've become excited about celebrating a "holiday" or fun day. I am not sure why that is, but I used to get annoyed with these days that were deticated to themes, decorations ad traditions.

So what shifted? Why after all these years did I suddenly become interested in celebrating these traditions? Simple, I became a mother. It is odd because suddenly I want the world to be the most fun, exciting, adventurous, cool place ever! I never looked at it this way, but I do believe traditions and celebrations are our way of honoring life, enjoying life and coming together as people to share sentiments. Its not annoying (as I once thought) it's awesome!

To begin with honoring traditions and celebrations I am beginning with Halloween. Afterall it is within my favorite season.

Notes to self...

1.) Everything is a process, an unfolding of events: an intricate map of geographical emotions, distance, time and languages. Stop searching for a destination, a conclusion or a punction mark. Be present in the process and be humble by the fact that you have no real idea where life will take you. Everyday invite life in to teach you and take you where ever it is you may go. 2,) Trying to be better= Pointless. Be challenged by new knowledge and let it take you where it will with conscious intention. 3.) Laugh! Laugh hard and deep and let it devour you. Laugher is medicine.

All along

My mind lies gently resting on the unveiling truths, quiet and still,
until more arrive and suddenly it is a show of little shooting stars clanging in my pocket like loose change just waiting to be found, aha!
The days are neither collected or sold, they are origami creatures
performing circus acts on the strings between my heart and all else
that beats and hums of life within.
they are built of sugar and salt and they journey between
sweetness and heartache,
and even in the moments that do not know of time,
the journey is always there, flowing like a river that never stops to think of what it would feel like to stand still; It just is, knowing or not, it is.
Hunger never knew how to borrow so fully from the empty barrel that lies between my rib cage,
prana and tears fill this space, wind and dust someday.
sorrow, it knows me.
sleep and laughter, they come to caress my hair and smile into me, as if to say feed upon us before you go back to climbing cliffs in search of your one lost puzzle piece. rest now.
but my journey does not break into parts,
it is one shoot of an arrow
and I only I see the slowest motion version of it,
hoping, waiting, hoping
that by the end, when it has laid its mark, you are there in those final moments
to smile, and to say I've loved you all along.

Let it be.

The fog hovers like an umbrella of greedy sun steeling humor,

mocking your bleak mood, as if the apparent season of summer

would somehow hold you to your capability of feeling bliss.

The voice that mocks the ego says, darling, you are holding

so still that I can see right through the cracks, a wild bull

is dancing on your mind, those butterflies are blooming in your stomach,

those worms are eating holes in your heart. How do you do it? How do you sit so still?

How do you remain so quiet?

Ah but there you are, composed, smiling, hiding, hoping none of this truth

will seep out and let itself by known. You taught yourself to tread water, to smile and always be polite. You learned to do this well, and you can't let go. Being perfect is what you do.

Today on the lower step to the back door of your apartment, you sat. The middle of the day

sat still with you, it hummed your sadness, it recognized your fury, it gave prize to your fight. The vast sky that stretched beyond where your imagination has wandered invited you to dream. The earth, she gathered bouquets for your funeral. It was the death not of you but of a little square inch piece of fear.

Let it be known. You are a woman of vast emotion, the deepest sorrows, the widest longings, the highest loves, the biggest laughter... You feel all of life with all of who you are.

Let it be.

and then there is you being your own best friend.

Today I woke up with a little tingle in my chest, with a little hallow space right in the middle, like a bulls eye to be targeted by some saintly emotion of self-love. That little hollow ache is the kind that asks you to pull the sheet over your head and say no thank you to being an active part of the bustling world outside.

Today I forced myself to yoga, in other words I got dressed, showed up, rolled out my mat on the floor and thought, "Oh God what am I doing here." I have no desire to move my body or to breath into this space of blah.

It had been several weeks since I'd done yoga. My body felt reluctant, non-flexible and weak. Surprise, surprise! Could it be mirroring exactly how I felt emotionally and mentally? After one too many Vinyasa flows I could feel my body trembling in pose, it was hard to hold, to stay with it. Back down to child's pose, exhale, and then the floodgates opened.

I spent the last 15 minutes of my yoga classes silently bawling, tears rolling down my face, but not a peep. I realized when I hate doing yoga the most is when I need it the most. It connects me to myself, even when I don't want to connect, or I'm scared to connect because there are feelings there other than happiness.
I stretched out all the kinks, got the blood flowing, let go of some old tears and left that yoga studio feeling renewed. There is only so much chocolate, wine and self-deprecating behavior to numb the not so fun days, and then there is you being your own best friend, saying, "Get you ass out of bed, get on the mat and let go, be and accept."

How or Why?

There is no how or why

there is just

what is

I cannot explain nor define.

In my simplest form I am a ribbon of endless length

that never unwinds the same way twice and

remains bound to a wheel of certainty

But for you, without knowing how or why,

I want to come undone,

I want to dance,

I want to stretch and be seen.

I close my eyes to words i may never speak

I cannot yet see the reason in between two outcomes

The years have escaped me, nothing is familiar

But you are the same, always the same

and on my mind,

in my intentions,

a part of my smile

the act of just being.

You are there in my heart

without knowing, how or why.

Hey Honey Where You Been?

It was a Wednesday night at the Press Club in Sacramento. The music was horrific, the drinks weren't strong enough and no one entertained my curiosity. My roommate insisted on dancing with her obnoxious drunk friends, so I disappeared into the loner room, a quiet place full of empty tables and a window facing the bustling intersection on 21st Street.

I sat down. Then a bandit of cheesmo testosterone bearing beef-cakes came to flatter me and offer to buy me a drink, oblivious of my need for solitude. I didn't find it in me to be rude or ask them to leave me alone, so I smiled and smoothly planned my escape.

Then...

A shadow of a man walked from the corner of the room to the center table. A young Bob Dylan vibe, a crazy curly-haired rebel that won my heart without even trying. "hey honey where you been," he asked me. I smiled, leaned in and whispered in his ear, "thanks for saving me."

We lasted about 2.5 years. In the beginning I told myself that love was suppose to be rapturous, tormenting and self-sacrificing. I fought for that relationship and I would have given my limbs to prove my love, but there is only so much fuel in the gasket for that kind of love. And when it ran out, I just needed to lie down and be loved, without task or fight.

I learned that even though I loved that man with ever ache in my bones and beat of my heart, sooner or later it was going to wear me down, perhaps be the death of me, so I cried, packed my bags and left.