« February 2008 | Main | July 2008 »

March 08, 2008

queen of cups

she walked out of the room, calmly this time. As my chest rise and fall. this morning, i realized i was at zero. even in the sunshine, carrying strawberries and greens, there are multiple truths. at first I took money as my value. then I remind myself, I just bought part of a rug. but i should be older, i should know what im doing, and, even though those things are not so I should be able to swing this. For love. it should protect me. for love; these are my secrets.
so, there was no fight tonight. she calmly walked out. maybe it was a coincidence and cold was just byproduct, but it happened in a moment when I couldn't give her what she needed. so, The Hermit: I restore myself to the narrator. The Right to orate my own life. my observer: 2 muse.

My client was standing and I talked about daemons. about healing crisis and watching them come out and just saying "hi". I had a shitty meditation last night with a lot of unclarity, clarity of unclarity, and anger. Afterwards, there were conversations in a tone that was foreign and my dissonance amplified until it became so clear that it was just one of my same old trips again. ..."Hi."

When the client was sitting, watching what came up around the breath. hunger. feeling that there might not be enough. I gave the example that the daemons may be with you. he may sit in the passenger seat and taunt you. he may demand you buy him ice cream. And you can buy him ice cream. so long as you are driving. the deep knowing, the place beyond hunger and fear must hold the wheel.

for the first time, she breathed calmly though her nose, the most amazing thing. I remember this as my chest rise and fall. calm but aching with a pain that has no location. he strangest kind. alone. I feel my pulse also--through my throat to my forehead and feel the edge of each beat when the heart empties. the terror-wonder of existence: that it must empty, you imagine it
squeezed in a spiral; wrung. are its edges faintly tacky-sticky?
might it get stuck closed or will the next vaccum come?
the first time I had anxiety was when I was twelve. the red line just opened and we were gonna ride it to olvera street. in the morning, I was simply aware that I was different. A understanding of mortality that you can never get back. the first time you are aware that your heart empties....I remember many years when I had to remember each breath. I wondered, was it the butter on my toast? it did taste saltier than usual, or maybe I was poisoned. those things did not sound reasonable, but then again, no explaination did.

I first got interested in blood about ten years ago, when I did live blood analysis. and am endlessly intrigued by blue blood bled red. one of the few things Im sure of right now, is that I want to learn how to stick a vein. how to see through the flesh and pass through the eye of the needle.

On new years eve, we were building a lodge for a sweat. Camilla helped take to old lodge down and I went to cut willow from the river. I was to take off the excess branches and follow the line of the bough, for 8 boughs. I got to my 8th and was stuck: I didnt know what branch to follow---which was the main line? I asked, and andrew said--its not the straightest, its the strongest.

This is true for veins as well. this same thing was told to me again. "its not the straightest, its the strongest"

I teach this in focus--refining the literal flow of energy. cutting ties, repairing leaks, refining, down to a laser point, and making the pathways efficient.

for a few months, "its not the straightest but the strongest", I went along looking to be pruned, until I had another question. both forks of the vein were strong, but there were valves near by... the answer, you dont have to choose. go in, at the "v", right at the fork. self imposed limitations, there was another answer.

I have this deep sense that its all gonna be okay. I wonder if Im being a romantic and shouldnt be more pragmatic. I dont understand why she is so far away right now. I dont know if there is not another option that I just havent seen. Looking for balance in the mean time. it the inbetween, the balance of two. the endless xeno between where you each come from and where you together are going. in the mean. Is it because she didnt like her dinner? or because I worked all day? again. belief--without proof. without proof to contradict. belief--hope--beyond understanding that. its
gonna
be alright.

1. Its okay if you flinch, you don't need to apologize
2. the memory you dont have
3. the canary flies into the cave
4. the emptiness that contains everything
5. breathe in an iceblue sunrise sky
6. fall back to move forward
7. light snake spirals up my spine
8. red blood in my heart.
9. her ocean
10. her fire
11. keep reaching keep reaching
12. a battle cry.
13. endless chances
14.

I still dont understand this body. I keep finding different ways to look. how do I heal each organ, each story. I hold a toe and see a blonde girl with pony tails. what does it mean that I can look? details to wind through, for what? some times my view narrows and I think its a closed system--un inter ested and tired. But then each time I put one hand on someones chest and the other on their back. I freak out with the knowledge that I dont get it. how could someone's heart be between my hands?

How could that be?