bop it over the head, run free

"Often the creative life is slowed or stopped because something in the psyche has a very low opinion of us, and we are down there groveling at its feet instead of bopping it over the head and running free."

~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes, PhD, Women Who Run with the Wolves

ourselves, our ideas, our art

"In many cases what is required to aright the situation is that we take ourselves, our ideas, our art, far more seriously than we have done before."

~Clarissa Pinkola Estes, PhD, Women Who Run with the Wolves

just

"I understand that the attachment to myself and my image...was actually taking me away from my self, from this wonderful opportunity to just sit, just breathe, just feel the warm animal of my body, just feel the soft, sultry heat of June. The density of my attachment was making it impossible for me to have a truly satisfying experience of life in my body just as it was in the moment. When under the sway of this obsession, my mind's attention was always in the fantasized future, or the idealized or devalued past -- never present to the reality of the moment."

~Stephen Cope, Yoga and the Quest for the True Self

positive surrender

"You surrender to a lot of things which are not worthy of you. I wish you would surrender to your radiance...your integrity...your beautiful human grace." 

~Yogi Bhajan

hope

 

lesson

So low.

I am not made to hurt people, even accidentally.

But obviously, like other humans, I am capable of it.
It is a horrible lesson to learn.

I know that I am moreso made to Love.

I did not like any of it. I did not want any of it. Nothing was real.
It was the alcohol. It was the genetic chemical allergy that I try to ignore, that I attempt to manage. Mind altering, temporary insanity.

And because I did something that revealed my imperfection, and because I am an honest
person, I have caused the greatest loss of my life.

My life, the best life I've had, is over.

I want him to believe me, to believe in me, to believe in us, to stay with me.
To stay with us. Everything between us is, and has been, truth and love. That is not over.
That is not gone.

I have never lied and I have never pretended. I have always been true. I love him so much.

The wind is cold in the slipping sun.

My stomach and eyes and heart are so heavy. It find it hard to speak.

Cried four times today already, students and the curious eyes of others be damned.

Give me another chance. Please.

This occurrence has revealed just how close I actually was to slipping off the edge from feeling okay to feeling completely horrible.

I do not realize how a day of sunshine turned into a grim darkness.  A haunting by a chemical nightmare and the stupid actions that resulted.

I cannot erase but can move past.

 

I have to be okay.

I have to believe in Love.

Fuck Kerouac

I was consumed all last week and this weekend with giddy preparations as I awaited my Philip's arrival for a visit on Tuesday.

Nails, hair, skin, laundry, car repairs, meal planning, visibly glowing in anticipation. I was even able to get an ample amount of time off to bask in my time with my Philip, in our freedom to have and to hold each other for as much time as possible. 

I've never felt this way about anyone before. Everyone knows. Most of all, I know it.

And now.

My heart. 

It's breaking.

My soul.

It's devastated.

I'm still shaking from a new, deep, sorrowful pain. I've been hurt so many times in my past, by other peoples' actions, but never have I hurt someone else through my own actions. 

Actions that were not me.
Actions that were not wanted.
Actions that were not, and are not, Duncan.

The pain of losing my Philip -- even the fear of possibly losing him -- makes me hold my breath, get dizzy, and want to lie in a fetal position on the ground.

I feel faint when I am awake. When I am asleep, my body is still tense, and I dream of being advised to serenade him with the truth that can sometimes only be found in music.

I dreamed that I ran into Ryan Adams in Savannah. We chatted and he suggested that I should sing to Philip. Adams had on a terrific hat. I forgot to ask about about wife Mandy and their Savannah wedding.

I woke up with the song in my head. I posted it to Facebook, to share with Philip and for anyone who wants to see what love sounds like, if even for a millisecond in cyberspace.

To Philip, a serenade, from my dreams and into our reality:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSOg0-Rh9iY

All of this pain and sorrow because of a few drops of a disgusting brown liquid taken in jest that have historically and genetically been forbidden to enter my system -- poisoned my moment, destroyed my judgement, and have led me to the edge of almost losing it all. Evil.

A mantra of sincerity. A declaration of truth. A devotion to the Truth of Love.

It was not me.
I am not that, in body or soul. 

I have hurt the love of my life.

I don't know how I can cope with the fear of losing him.
I've met my One. My Only.
The person whose heart I can see into, and whom I want to see into mine.
Always.
I love my Philip. I always have. And I always will.

 

To Phil: I Love You Righteously

"Righteously" ~ Lucinda Williams

you're entirely way too fine

To My Love, My Philip

 "Simplethings"~ Miguel

someone real, someone true

New Hero: Jade Beall and A Beautiful Body Project

Jade Beall is one of my new heroes.  

May her work -- her message, her project, her movement -- continue to grow, flourish, inspire, and empower women.

A Beautiful Body Project
 
Jade Beall - Therapeutic Photography

Celebrating Body Diversity - TEDxTuscon

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - String Trio in E flat major, KV 563 (François Fernandez, violin. Ryo Terakado, viola. Rainer Zipperling, cello)

The Adagio of this performance is particularly magnificent. It successfully drowns out the grating morning office banter surrounding my desk.
 
Divertimento

resting love

The Virgin Holding the Sleeping Child, with St John and Two Angels 
Bernardino Luini, ca. 1500-1550 

8 days a week

 Light of the Harem - Frederic Leighton, ca. 1880

exactly

Italian Lady - Frederic Leighton, 1859 

wanderlust with joni, part one

A dreary February Tuesday. 
Still on the opposite coast. 
Still below sea level. 
Still pointed in the wrong direction. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YgE6lDYz7I0

addicted to stories

We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories. - Jonathan Gottschall

mission

My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. To take pride in my thoughts, my appearance, my talents, my flaws, and to stop this incessant worrying that I can't be loved as I am. - Anais Nin