i am exactly who i've wanted to be.  all this time, i've been lying...saying i hate myself, how low i am, how badly i think of myself.  all the while i wonder if i've been secretly in love with what i've created?  i was walking to work the other day, and i saw so clearly how happy and busy we all are just being ourselves.  busy being victims, busy being angry, consumed with being sad.  we put all our effort, every focus possible into manifesting these pictures of ourselves.

the choices we make recreate the same misery, and we say we don't want it?  our patterns like the eliptical swirl of the orbits of the planets.  all amazingly beautiful orbits in their own right...its just choosing which orbit i want...

i want the blue one...that one there with the warmth eminating.  the one with the deep orange edges engulfed in crimson...the pulsating one that smells like sage and oranges.

this is the one i'm creating...i am busy creating her.  She is allowed.

my sustenance always a regret?

It's rarley what i say i want
But i take it in anyway
Ingesting nothingness to create somethingness
...Anythingness
To soothe the emptyness

But there is space in that emptyness that makes it not empty
Rather, it is crowded with things i don't want
And yet
Ingest anyway

Believing that to be my only form of nourishment...my sustenance always a regret?

Because I have lived in the past
My present a perpetual recreation of its predecessor
...a very special bond
That must be broken
Let it die where it happened
It is the fertilizer for the new

the star turning in on itself...

when it is quiet, i can hear the universe in its swirl.  i hear the moon call to the ocean, and the symphony of the stars collisions with themselves.  and so we collide, too, with ourselves.  we run into ourselves, turn in on ourselves, implode and explode.  we create thunderous sounds, beautiful chaos, and infinite ways to see ourselves as the Love that we are.  the Stars that we are.  the Gods that we are.  it all plays out before us in amazing perfection, for we've created it and its amazing perfection.   we call in our own life and then want to run from the very thing that we've created  the very thing that holds the knowledge that we believe we need to seek.  the star turning in on itself...

every night, and sometimes, during the day...

My tears have come every night, and sometimes during the day.  At night, the pain seems to want to take me, to swallow me whole.  It is its' own entity, a living, breathing, heaving mass that awaits my quiet, that vulnerable, quiet place that exists when you put your head to the pillow.  It comes then, like a wave, like the sun rising, and covers all my skin, seeps into every pore and holds me, tight.  It nuzzles up against my neck, spoons me from behind and wraps it's self around myself.  It wrings out my tears, lovingly, with God's grace and permission, it heals me.  It allows me to feel the profoundness of loss, the depth of confusion, the authority of it's presence.   For it is only through my capacity and willingness to experience such pain that I can experience it's equal in love.  It's equal in love.  It is the willingness to FEEL.  The willingness to FEEL.  The willingness to let life live through you, let her in, let her breathe, let her expand your very soul.  It is then that the joy of living is not contingent upon the smile, rather, it is just the joy of living.  It is the opportunity of life, of the gift of the moment, no matter its' promise.  It is the grace of being here, right here, in my life, in my body, in my experience of the physicalness of my Spirit.