The one that sings to me

Hold my deep dark secrets, and let this be the place where I can dump some of the thoughts that aren't ready to be unveiled yet.

So, I'm slowly embracing the business world, but I'm also slightly holding back. I seem to find apprehension as an apparent quality of my universe, where I'm often telling myself that I'm just not prepared enough. I'm a noob. I'm on the fence. "I've never done this before!" therefore, I'm only allowed to observe and don't have the guts yet to liberate. Constantly, I proclaim my ineptitude due to sheltered experiences. But, the verb here is opening me wide, and I'm on the verge of a complete eruption. I can feel it brewing deep inside me. I just hope I'm not one of the many statistically visionaries that gets stuck on chasing a better ecstacy, never satisfied with just one kind of work. The ones that lose their minds from too many mind expansion parties, to truly decipher which one resonated to their purposeful soul. I want to be the one that finds the deep connection to the one that pulls the most on my heart strings. The one that sings to me. So here I am. I'm on the cliff and haven't taken the plunge. 

I suppose, I'm reaching out until something grabs a hold. But alas, don't wait too long. I'm reminded once again, that as soon as I jump off the shore and reach for the rope my hand slips and instead of swinging across the lagoon, I fall hard... into the murky waters, scathed and blasted by protruding rocks hammered by erosion and oxygen. And, I stop and I listen. The earth tells me she is fragile and naive, as I am just the same. That it is important to take the plunge, but also be patient for the experience to be natural rather than forced. There is a difference between punctuality and hastiness as well as laziness and ineptitude. To stop and take a breath amidst the many paths to cross, it is easier to see how they all will end up at the same end. That I will ultimately end up in the water and that maybe taken the low road will be better than assuming that splashing in with a rope swing, maybe a feat to tackle when I'm certain that my focus is intentional to accomplishing that goal, and nothing else.

Detoxification

Start again
Start again
With a calm and quiet mind this time
Be alert, witnessing each breath,
Be tranquil, feeling every sensation
with equanimity

When a sensation feels it's way in,
Let it pass,
When a crazing of bliss bubbles,
Let it be,
When an aversion to discomfort grips,
Deeply exhale and move focus away from the pain.

Vices

It won't be forever that I run on passion, fire, and desire. But for now, it's the smoldering embers of experimentation that have ignited me, by my own curiosity.

"This self is such an intriguing character.

 I never order the same cocktail twice,  can’t figure out whether I’m a coffee drinker (or not) and viscerally recognize my travels as each point towards growth, not Luxury. 

And, even though some nights seem to feel more in the way of decadence, desire, and vice, I take home the memories like simple souvenirs, when lightly observed.  I wonder if it ever will come to a point in life, that something will track me down and out, and blow up my defense system leaving me irrevocably submissive to the lush lands and exotic men.  But, for now, I am happy to say I lack promiscuity, in the proverbial sense. 

~*Gambling, sex, potato chips, cocaine, cigarettes, shoes, alcohol… all compiled and categorized into a little treasure box I call, “UNEXPLORED TERRITORY.”*~

 On the flip side of materialism, I have encountered potential suitors, and recreational drug use practices that stirred little sparks. Shiny new toys aren't as attractive to me, as agreeing to outlandish practices that develop the badass adventurer stories in my mind.

I’ll never forget the first time he walked into the room and I looked into his eyes. Those "fuck me" eyes. And, I thought to myself, “Oh, fuck....” 
It’s not about the rush you get from betting $10,000, or snorting a line of cocaine and jumping off the roof. These are passé fits of addiction, that are wimpy and short lived. I’m talking about the burning feeling when you feel it all over and inside, and it takes over like a predator of sensationalism, swallowing up all other emotions, as the keyholder to the body as a vessel of watery depths that can only be tamed by the idea of lover,  of the high or the escape, of the rush or the run, of the ritual or the routine…whatever keeps you coming back for more. Writing about this makes it feel like it’s more obtainable, even though I know the addiction I have and what I’m seeking to fill has been an impossible journey for just about my whole life now.

My literary rant on this subject brings me to the question, Am I addicted to experiences? Can you be forever swayed by the insatiable desire for more life?!
Are these silly questions?

Journey On

Well, that was a fun ride. 

3 weeks ago, I landed in Rough and Ready, CA, a few miles outside of Grass Valley, CA. I basked in effervescent sunshine and spent a week before Halloween, regaining perspective through the lens of an endearing town 'where the men are rough and the women are ready.'

By the sheer magic of two beloveds, Alyssa and Milton, On Halloween, I ended up in a mansion in one of the most breathtaking overlooks of the Sierra foothills, as I was summoned into a pile of squish and introduced to a whirling twirling dervish of amazing dancers, musicians, and healers all throughout the night.

I said hello to the sun that morning, watching it rise above the hills and move the blankets of fog off the plateaus so we could see the secretive, clear blue lake underneath. We spent the following day soaking and marinating on a trip to Harbin Hot springs, a magical place I've been dreaming of visiting since last year. Shortly after, the caravan cruised north to Audio Corroborree debut bash in Mendocino, and the next morning, I find myself yet again, driving to another breathtaking tucked away mountain gem down the dirt roads of California. I rolled up onto the rustic site as the property was covered in ancient trees and wildlife, while the night sky was lit by stardust. Three brave men stayed up there for the last 6 months rebuilding a mountain home from the ground up. My work was short and sweet, and the connection was deep, as I was grateful to witness such beautiful commitment and creation to the work of building art.

After that, I hitched to San Francisco and spent over 4 hours at the Dance Mission Theater, taking class through West African, reggaeton, and hiphop, ecstatically dancing up all the dreams that have come to reality thus far, and saw a dear, dear sister Andrea, that brought me to the airport in Oakland next morning.

My flight to Florida was quick, easy, and completely unexpected. I drove up to the Suwannee River music park, catching an epic weekend at Bear Creek music festival. Seeing ol friends, the roots, the funk, and the tribe was perfect in its moment. Kayla, my sister, my partner in crime…we rocked out our leather jackets, cruised on our bicycles, and brought a bit of the west coast vibe in the east coast tribe, loving all the music and grand efforts to bring that love to light in Northern Florida.

I’m at my mom’s house in Florida and I couldn’t be happier to take a day to take a breath. *Sigh* The more and more I reflect my travels, the more I realize a free bird but I’m also yearning to hunker down and build a nest. How spectacular it was to fly by night, on the whims of faith and freedom, and charge destiny with an open heart. I also recognize the fruits of labor, and sincerity in enduring beloved work. Tending the gardens, putting the roof on, making peace with the forest, and surviving the mountain lions and bears to be apart of the landscape, is a sign of always striving to build a new home for community and tribe, whether it is on a new piece of land, or in our hearts.

This journey isn’t over yet. I am only more inspired to return home and plant the seeds of the beauty that I have witnessed.

Dear Sparky,

        This is to be read when you’re alone. This is when you are nestled in a place where everything melts away with each word written on this page. Light a candle. Take a breath. Settle in to a place that is attentive and true. The distractions of the day begin to soften. Its’ edges dissolve, where the heart reflects and the body’s mind and motions move to a steady hum. And this is the moment when the heart stops tugging and starts beating, pulsing. This is the reminder of that love is evident.

        It moves throughout every cell, and is strongly and firmly ingrained in the attraction. It is that alchemical dizziness that we feel when we touch each other, magnetizing a formula to fit together, even though our bodies already are puzzle pieces, finding their grooves.

        It is by the way your body feels. It is by the way the waves of bliss that sweep across your limbs. Compassionate tides rolling through with fervent winds because of the reflections of love being brought to the mind’s attention. Sometimes the quality of love is questionable, especially when I ask myself what’s best in this crazy, roller coaster-of-a-ride present moment. The up, downs, and all arounds of understanding what it means to see beauty in someone else, and not be attached to that, in respect of how they see themselves.

                 See yourself. Now, here, in this moment with the fire in your eyes. Take note of your own reflection. And, find me again when you do.

Love
Me

Waterfall

 Fewer words describe their soulful beauty
    And how he can maintain her innocence
        As the waterfall’s lustrous appeal
llluminates passion through unveiled skin.
   Gently, he opens her heart with serenity
    As he draws her  body close to his.
                With fingers interlaced
        There’s nothing more to witness,
                      but Love here.

Shedding Leaves

Connections from a physical cauldron of spiraling energy,
swirling guarded emotions out of deep beauty.
 Sacral space that is often locked with a skeleton key.
Your touch intoxicates me, the closer my dreams
 manifest in your reality.

I look into your eyes and see
the wishes of my mother,
and what my father hoped to be.
 This woman's body invokes the divine.
 You are my king.

A fairy tale moment that spins magic into space,
rewriting the story for romance and lust.
This match made in heaven
merely devotes me.

I lose my balance one foot after another, on my path
when I glanced up and saw you there.
The resonance of spirits beckoning truth.
For each of the lovers' third eye to see.

With sheltered blossom I've protected for so long,
standing by you gives me confidence
to shed these leaves.