to rebecca:

LIFE. i'm glad i can appreciate it from an unbiased point of view some times. marvel in the fantastical experience of merely existing as a human in this realm.

i'm doing well. i'm doing great even. i currently feel like all my emotions are rising to the surface like a million little tiny champagne bubbles, complete with tickling & stinging sensation when they *pop*!

sneeze & continue on right?

it's been a month where i've needed to remind myself (& be reminded) that there is no rush to get there. shit, that there isn't even a THERE to get to. that here is ok. & here is temporary regardless of how good or bad it may feel.

did you know i have perfectionist & control freak tenancies? i didn't. until recently. mild to say the least, but uncomfortable all the same ;)

& maybe the most important thing i am reminded of this week is that it's ok when someone i share an experience with has a completely different version of reality concerning said experience! i think i have haji to thank for that!!!! although there's lots of room for frustration & disappointment & bewilderment concerning my interactions with men (at least they are now men & not boys....as i become more of a woman) there's also the option of acceptance. imagine that.....

funny thing is, once i accept something, i usually find the clarity (in one form or another) that i was originally frustrated & disappointed & bewildered i didn't have.

i know none of this surprises you. hell, it doesn't surprise me either. :)

today i am all watercolor stains & old photos & scraps of fabric. i've been creating all day. it feels good, i'm inspired & i'm going with it!

"lies & half-truths fall like snow, covering the things i remember, the things i saw. a landscape unrecognizable after a snowfall..."-neil gaiman.

lies. half-truths. fantasies. we're not talking a blizzard of deceit. just a flurry of confusion, i suppose. more doubt than anything else. a gentle mist or haze of doubt & withholding.

things left to interpretation..& later denial.

but right now the oblivion of changing weather, the charge of a pending storm, is far too enticing.

stock up on candles & alibis...

the bees come at night...

maybe they know i've been bathing in honey. or maybe they have come to remind me, like my father earlier today, that time passes far faster than we can really grasp. can they sense, FEEL, the shifts raging inside me & have come to buzz their symphony to lull me to sleep.

they gather round my altar light, buzzing their secrets in a foreign language.

i believe they already know all of my secrets, i admit that may be why they've come. their time is waning & i am to bear witness to their last song & transform it into my own breath, honor my own desires.

& when his words hit me like a bunch to the gut, another reality shifts in me. somehow i have come to care what he thinks, & my fragile uncertain being is wounded. & i revisit this weeks earlier epiphany: i want to break open their guarded green hearts & finger paint them with my messy blue passion. & i remember patience. i need not reek havok. i need not break in. i am reminded to walk slowly, softly, intentionally.

i hear her voice telling me to take my restless body, my racing mind & my aching heart & submerge it all in the bathtub. let the water wash me clean, leave it there, watch it go down the drain with a calm mind & a clear heart & a realxed body. i miss her voice. i long to hear her tell me stories. the stories of her life, of my life, of our intertwined paths & separate journeys. the stories that filled me & shaped me as a child. & then as a woman. floating through my ears as i filled out my body. words that gave me hope & perspective & took me on adventures & tucked me in at night. i crave her voice & wonder when i will hear the stories i feel i've been cheated.

& again i remember patience. i remind myself i am a story-teller now.

i fall asleep to the lullabies of bees, i dream of her voice giving me advice about bright-eyed men & sad-eyed women......i wake up & my own words fill the air with their own fierce grace.

delayed processing...but i'm still tightening down on the lagtime...

i take the elevator to the top floor, after a questionable sideways glance from the doorman.

yeah i know it's late. in fact, you have no idea how late.

"i guess he was expecting you" he says with said sideways glance.

i think: he expects a lot, but has no idea who i am.

i reach the 22nd floor & walk into this glass palace overlooking the charles. overlooking a city that was my home for so long.

i've never felt so displaced. the city itself like an ex-lover i'm trying to be "just friends" with. & then here he is. such a familiar stranger.

here i am on the 22nd floor of a past life like a faded photograph taken from a perspective that isn't actually mine. like when i hold the camera over my head to get an angle my mere 5'2" height won't allow.

& i think, so this is what it looks like from up there huh?

as far from paradise & fourth as you can possibly get. it reminds me of fancy hotels i've stayed in, or that time my dad took me up the top of the pru because i always wondered what it was like "up there"

so this is what it's like "up there" huh?

& everything else becomes a blur of familiarity & confusion & words. his proclamations of passion & love & desire & intimacy.

the words lodged in my throat after scrambling frantically around in my head, still desperate for an out. a fire escape. or a little sign that say "in case of emergency exit here"......what would it feel like to free fall 22 floors. what would it feel like on my naked shivering body, all 5 foot 2 of it.

he wants to know what i'm thinking. how i've felt about it all. i mumble something about unfulfilled potential. about disappointment & indecision.

it's not until later i want to scrunch up my features up & scold him like a child.

oh you misunderstood, my invitation for depth wasn't dependent on your romantic availability. oops, i've been operating under the assumption that others make the distinction between intimacy & romance. how foolish of me.

my life feels like it's all up in the air. location, profession, romance.....but i deep cleaned my loft today & feel a little more grounded in this reality.

doing yoga & listening to npr. yeah i'm a dork. life is good. i had a lot of fun, laughed a lot at work. i feel blessed to be able to laugh & learn & grow so much in so many aspects of my life. i'm not an easy girl. i'm a bit high maintainance but not in the ways that usually indicates.....

my expectations are high. for myself & for life. not materialistically. emotionally, spiritually.....interpersonally. i expect depth in connections. i don't take them at face value, though i can appreciate the simplicity of life. i desire intrigue & mystery & challenge. i expect challenge i suppose.....i expect to be challenged. i suppose that's why i live on a volcanic island. & work with teenagers on a farm where i'm FULL IN IT for 8 days at a time. & why i live in a small house in an open loft with two other really beautiful & strong personalities. & why i go back when something doesn't feel finished.

& why i pull out the magnifying glass & unravel the loose threads when interacting with people. not to judge, just to discover. i rarely have attachment to whats underneath, but i want to peek inside.

you put my feet back on the ground...did you know you brought me home?

home. am i ?

sunday morning. i'm cross-legged before the altar. the bass from zoe's warm-up set is pulsing through root chakra & up my spine. there is an angel drawing reiki symbols on my own wings with his fingers. he leans in after covering my neck & check with kisses & in that voice i know so well, that voice that has mirrored truths & comforted me many times, i hear: "welcome home"

home. this concept is phenomenal to me. home. i am writing this from zoe's house. the place i currently call home. which i share with her & oliver & the two rotties. home. the other day oliver came upstairs, said nothing, sat down on my bed & read while i wrote in my journal. a little while later he got up, said: "thanks for sharing your space" & left.

home. family.

& i'm contemplating going back to boston, though i just got back on the island. though i have all this beauty around me all the time.
my life is here on the island. i have a "home", i have family & community, i have my job & my routines.
& in boston i have......well a home-the only house i've ever thought of as "home" in brighton. i have family some blood, some not, but all of whom have known me for years, know me inside & out, love me & support me.

gypsy. it's what my boss calls me. he tells me he can see the gypsy blood in me. someone who can make a home where ever she goes i suppose. my first real boyfriend called me gypsy too. i guess this will come in handy if i do indeed spend the upcoming year going between hawaii & boston..from home to home. family to family. there are far worse things......

...

desire.
today i desire: chocolate, my journal, children's stories, romance, laughter, moss beneath my feet, activity, art, inspiration, sincerity, intimacy, comfort, to be held.....

10 things that prove that things are beautiful in my world:

1. random phone calls from good old friends
2. collaging
3. sparkles
4. music
5. writing all my thoughts down in my journal
6. women's writing circle planning
7. orchids
8. zoe & oliver
9. dramatic words like: AMAZING. INTENSE. INCREDIBLE. PHENOMENAL.
10. remembering to breathe & be grateful.