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.

Goddess

 I strive to be her. I manifest my role as her with a mantra every morning, reclaiming truth, spirituality, and feminity with my words and my breath. I remind myself what it means to be a strong and sensitive female on this planet. I refuse to denounce the goddess within me as just a fleeting dream of my brainspace. Even though she seems unattainable, she symbolizes perfection even amidst the provocations of earnesty, humility, arrogance, and ego. She will always be within to nuture whatever is uncertain.

To unfold the secrets of balance and grace, I must unveil the wombs and whims of the goddess, both in strength and insecurity. I must show beauty through elegance and strength by intuitive courage that can only be unlocked when I chose to free myself in that moment. Breathe deep and transpire the energy into moments of presence, and witness the blooming novice opening into a lotus of the divine.

All of these qualities strengthened through the feminine by the grace and conditions of nuturement are manifested through the lens of their own perceptions. Women cannot be told they are powerful, they can only feel it. A goddess pays attention to all the changes in her body, respects her movement by dancing with others, spends time each day with herself, by herself, engages her muscles and breathing to reconnect with the mechanics of her temple. She honors whats passes through her and beyond her, and always takes care of her environment within herself as well as around herself. She is open to receive love and assistance from others and is certain of her decisions that come from her heart. She is patient for the frequency and invocation of beauty into life. She finds her duty to unlock love inside others when she is able to fully love herself.

I've been holding off for the right moment to write about my time spent with Becky Harmonm and I feel this piece will be timeless and everchanging beyond what is expressed on this page. These words commence my admiration of her beauty and strength, the goddess that appeared to me in my deepest valley of darkness when a time dawned upon me that I felt my own feminity had been lost. Not even the brightest star in the sky could lead me to the light, as it seemed my perceptions drowned me in a fear that I was forever tainted by a fateful experience that left my courage and will shocked and shattered. My body felt frail and unwelcome as the folds of my flesh were weakened by an infection that dampened my light with fear. The sun climbed above the clouds each day and I felt as if my soul would not awaken to the morning's possibilities.

She rose with the sun and moved with passion from the earth to meet its' highest place in the clouds. She inspired grace and beauty, poise and strength, in every moment. Her body reflected her incredible strength as she charged physical challenges without the slightest bit of doubt. Her belief in her ability was unfettered, even if she took a few extra moments to catch her breath. Her bright blue eyes looked deep within mine, with the same depths as the love in her heart. She reflected the sexy and unfaltering goddess to reclaim her throne in my perceptions. Her ambitions reflected my own, as I mourned the loss of my own strength, and buried its resurrection deep within my self-pity, Becky refused to acknowledge defeat. She swept me up, called my inner goddess to arms, and rekindled the flame of life and love that I was so dearly missing. Much of my recollections of what it truly means to live in goddess form is attributed to her. She is my heart, my soul, my light, my sister.