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May 26, 2007

what the fuck.

I am stronger now, but I don't want to decieve myself. Learning to move through the fear. sitting before you, my eyes are water. not the color of water, but water itself. sometimes contained. You say Im courageous. sometimes---water pouring--you say Im beautiful. Ashley Dass values when I am strong. maybe in the past she has had something at stake. I noticed how it made me mad when she said Im "in a better place". And me, knowing before, my strength in my weakness and vulnerability, but wanting to be strong enough to bring it into the world. Afraid now of not being afraid. Wondering if I might be too hard. wondering what is now in the shadow. But guessing a bit: here's how I know Im afraid: I obsess over Leah. Here's how I know somethings off: I get fucked up before teaching. Here's how I know Im sad: I cry my brains out in Ally's class. I try to stare down a six-year-old, but start crying myself....
who an I to say anything.

At first, I thought there was no beer here. I tried to drink sherry, but just couldnt do it. I did finally find a beer in the back of the fridge. god always provides.
Half way to Hermosa, I noticed that the world seemed extra special less real than usual. yup. I checked, pretty poor reality testing at that moment, driving, aparently paranoid about being paranoid. I passed a sobriety test once. I dont want to have to do it again; I walked by the ocean. I walked on the. sand. coffee shop and drank coffee--noticing that I wasnt noticing the transitions. snapshots. and not thinking.
I should mention: I have a special ability to most the time not feel pot but every once and a while hallucinate. so. wondering. I looked at a rose leaf for two or twenty minutes. it is amazing how vivid something is. as thought there is a set ammount of energy of awareness and if it is lost to distraction or thinking or nameing or whatever like it usually is it is diffused and only the smallest bit is actually seeing. I looked at the leaf.

later. I took ally's class. part of me broken back off to think of that broken back off piece thinkng. Devachan. hang out for millions of years betweeen lives to process the milliohn thoughts you had while drinking coffee one day (only the smallest of which had to do with drinking coffee). but that forgot itself again. I closed my eyes and saw breath like leaves blowing.

The next day I went to Ally's class again. After a long day teaching. for a while, I have not felt like I have gotten to be the nice teacher. mean mommy. Like I was tonight. Its hard when they hate you. like I was today. and called this kid on it and said "why do you come if you dont like me?" I lost my only frined when I was little because I thought it was funny to be mean. A parent said to me after class, "its hard when they hate you...I look at mine and think, 'you have no idea what I do'".

On thurs, Greg woke me up with more of his cussing texts. I must be upset by this. however Im being strong. And I say that not just as something Im trying but really really, I am stronger: the longest time not sick or clinically depressed in my life. but I cried through Ally's class. that is, after I cut out the Leah obessesions. this is awsome, because I havent seen her for a year, and she is still the symbol of my not goodenoughness: I look at her website. I look at Anni's MySpace, and I hate myself.

in class it started with, "I am the ugliest person here" and then---of course--"I am the fattest person here"..." I have teh most crappiest broken lines of anyone here". And I noticed then that I was afraid. that these are survival things. that I feel I need something to make it except for myself. cussing and cussing, and mailing the letter that said Im quitting lakewood and planning my leaving party and getting rejected by this job and that job and a last session with a year long client family. Somehow, this translates to, "not pretty enough" "too fat"

I couldnt stop my mind from its purgeing. didnt know if it was new poison or old, but it doesnt matter. and soon I was crying--not for any of these things, not even for the fear, but for the death it stood for. but part of me. smart enough to be willing to let it all die.

I always go in thinking that I will do what it takes, and if that means crying, fine. But when that happens as soon as it happens, Im so embarassed. cant get off the mat, cant stay on. about to explode and then
the four non-blondes song came on, stupid to eveyone else. I did explode. I felt my insides burst. needing to throw up so bad, but again, cant get off the mat. you know. that feeling of outsides crushing in and insides exploding out? this ugly crap, by the way, this is yoga too....maybe I dont have a website where I look hot but this is it too. I think we forget. Or at least I do.

I am soooo not innocent. If I was, I probably would have a website with pretty pictures. I notice that I dont care if I fall out of warrior 3, bt that I can balance even with tears streaming down and smoking with the fire in my eyes. I can balance, until I think that thought. Untill I work against myself. I am not innocent. there is violence and resistence and my students show it to me. now, I can hold it for them and it diffuses and it is healing sometimes. but there is violence in me and around me. There is hate there is jealously. I know there is stealing because my wallet got stollen. I know there is hate, because my (I guess used to be) best friend cusses at me almost daily. In the moment. I did nothing. in the last month last year. I did nothing. but it must have been in me. because it is around me. I am not innocent.

So I bleed it out. thank god, I guess. now when I go to Ashley Dasses retreat, so glad to be so strong, I will be done bleeding and can go n the sweat lodge. clean from that dirty that makes me both too powerful and too weak, from the tears that drip to vulnerable and too penetrating to anyone who sees. Last time, Andrew did help me get back more of my soul. and the soul that trys to live in this body---"too ugly" and "too fat"--and want to be strong but wants to live. that wants not to violate itself in this process. To integrate that which everyone is afraid of, rather than push it further and further away. life that cant be controlled. cant be pretty. this, when it comes down to it, basically masculine yoga. masculine APA. to make any sense at all
what about the part that doesn't make sense? What about the part that cant be controlled
what about the part
unspoken unseen
I bleed it into the world in a controlled manner, still
did the little boy see me crying?
did he see his mom cry as Im sure she has countless times before? in that moment
what is being broken in each of us? what is it that we both cannot stand?
I can't clean the kitchen tonight. I cant.
I cant.
I cant.
I cant.

May 16, 2007

i dont know

I just got back from therapy. a 7 hr ordeal, as I am an idiot and seeing someone in santa barbara. i have the visual of holding a lighter to a hundred and a twenty. I guess i mostly talked through the therapist. on the way, I found a spider in my coffee. or rather, found a spider in my mouth, via the coffee. the spider is dead. this disturbed me deeply. I didnt tell the therapist this, instead I ranted about Michael Madden.

i could take the death of the spider by coffee to be deeply symbolic. there is somethig in me that wants to be afraid. that same something gets mad about wasting time and money. that same something is still scared that everyone will leave me as they already have.
I think it is in the decision to move through the fear. to get some goddamn discipline and a back bone to decide what Im about beyond some holy victim of trying so hard but not quite doing. being too sensative. too vulnerable. If I am strong, will I kill the spider? or was it the coffee that killed the spider (the nutritional equivalent of too much control).

all of these things, I offer them into the unknown.

recently, i decided to restore myself to the sacred unknown. some would say that when we say "i dont know" we are lying. repressing. maybe
but, looking back, I see a connection between removing my "i dont know" and losing my connection to god. to that which I ultimately dont know.

chaos, maybe. letting the rules that keep most people glued melt one by one.
but, my stupid little cognition....I dont want the world to be that small. I want to feel something bigger than I can understand. this is when I feel real.
oherwise, you are just a thought and just what I think of you.

i surrender
to that which cannot be spoken, heard, or even felt. I know that most of our work happens here, even though the ego would like to take responsibility. to a world not bound by my perceptions. who knows what alchemy is in this bullshit. who knows.

"I dont know" means there are gods.
"I dont know" means what we make up together is bigger than any one piece or person or action.
In "I dont know" I start to know and I agree to an endless unknowing.

are you wiling to serve what's behind your eyes? Believe without proof to get in the way
do you want to see reality even if what's shown is chaos and the ego falls apart?
do you want it even if it makes you look bad, even if no one gets you, even if you do the work and study forever and the work moves through you but still
you dont get to know.

even if the spider dies?

I dont know.

so, the therapist did not ask about the spider.
nor did she ask about the fact that, once I left, later that day, things will happen until I delete my best friend from my phone.
she did not ask if he ever was my friend or if I ever was good enough his.
she didnt ask why, at best, some of my friends will love me enough to take care of me, but nothing else, or why most wont even do that.

If I believed in "deserve" I would say "I dont deserve this", but since I dont, I simply dont choose it anymore. and, whatever, in the spectrum of things from seathing hate to throwing a taco bell cup in the range of affect from bliss to crying again, from perfect strength...to this
at least I know hate. have stared murder in the face. have worked closely enough with it that call it what it is. in the spectrum of things
I dont know.

the therapist did not ask what it would take to ever make life real.
she did not ask what it would take for me to not be provisional
for me to be held and to hold
she did not ask what it would be like to look at her and not fall through her eyes into hazy light, not to doubt her physical existence as to light and too solid
she did not ask how the spider was.

or, maybe she did and I wasnt listening.