Friday, April 29, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Everything moves so fast
At a standstill in the center
I notice movement forward and around and sometimes back
But movement, yes, movement
Mind & spirit stuck. Stuck.
Lover, come and save me from this immobility
Wrap your hands around my waist
And pull me from my center
Into the world of movement
Teach me the steps to the dance of forward motion
Guide me, show me where to put my hands and how my feet should move
I'll do it. I'll be a good girl.
I know how to follow directions.
Lover, don't tell me again I must propel myself
That that is the dance,
To unfurl from that deep place inside that no one else can reach.
I told you, I am stuck. Immobile.
Come pull me from this standstill,
Fling me if you must into the chaos.
But don't let me stand here
This posture. This stance.
Standing in this alone-ness
Aching to belong.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Fighting with my Body: A Love Poem
Last night, pulling the jazz shoes out of the back of the closet
Squeezing into the sports bra that actually holds the ladies in when I jump
A smile spread wide enough across my face that my eyes crinkled
Last night, I danced hard
Stretched, kicked, jumped, turned
So long out of practice, my pirouettes turned flatfooted
My jumps, long ago and far away strong tours jete, now whimpering feet
Longing to bring flight to my body
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Does anybody question that the personal is political anymore?
One year ago today, a BP oil rig exploded in the Gulf of Mexico, killing 11 people and oozing oil and toxins into the surrounding ecosystem. Wildlife and humans are still affected by this huge environmental disaster. One year later they are still dying, sick, and trying to create paths to healing each other and themselves. The system that allowed this disaster to happen is still standing. Barely, but still standing.
One year ago today, my partner's ex cut him out of his child's life, for no other reason than she had determined that it would be best for the child.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
I am so damn sensitive. In general, I'm rather fiery and sometimes abrasive, and I know that can make it hard for people to realize that I am just all soft and mushy and vulnerable inside. And today, I'm feeling extramuch like a big, soft, squishy, sensitive mess. I wish I knew how to say more about this. Mostly I just want to either cry or be at my parents' house, watching TV with my mom's arm around me, while eating her food.
I wish I could just wake up tomorrow and everything would be drastically different. I would have a different job, and my apartment would have better insulation and central heating. I would be in better health, and so would my dog. My partner and I wouldn't have problems. I mean, sure, we would still have problems, but not the gut-wrenching, excruciating-to-wade-through kind we have right now. I wouldn't have any debt, and neither would he. We would have dirt in our yard instead of concrete, so the veggies would be in the ground (and there would be more of them.) I wouldn't feel so alienated. I would have more close friends who seem to actually know me, get me, and care about me, and more community who see and appreciate me for who I really am. I wouldn't feel so stuck. I would feel free.
If I could wake up tomorrow and control how I feel, I would feel completely free. Is it as easy as deciding that I can feel that way, regardless of what happens around me? No, because the simple fact of existence means I am interacting and interconnected with the rest of the world. It means that my freedom is quite literally contingent on everybody else's. Logically, I should remember that those people who have caused me so much pain are struggling for freedom, just as I am. Maybe that would help me to have more compassion for them, and consequently be able to let go of some of this pain. But my heart isn't interested in logic right now. It wants to be human and wounded.
Random non-linear ramblings . . . just working it out . . .
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Oh, look. I allowed an expression to happen.
Sixty-nine days of documenting my growth, and I'm not sure I can pinpoint a thing at all that is different than it was sixty-nine days ago. But I know things have changed. I've watched my body change. The growth of my hair is a reminder that slow transformation is not only possible, but that it is inevitable. Unlike the constant growth of hair, however, my spiritual, mental, and emotional transformation is malleable, something I can manipulate, guide. I know that many who are closer to mastering the transformation of self may be able to guide these changes through practice, through intention, through hard work. Sometimes I feel like a baby, just learning . . . because I am lucky at this point if I notice. Just simply notice that a change is occurring. Just simply notice that I am acting or living or loving in a way that feels good, productive, compassionate, and like who I want to be. Or not. Luckily I can also notice sometimes that I am hurtful/hurt, abusive/wounded, angry/sad . . . the "me" of not that long ago could not even notice these things.
Often I have focused my noticing on that which happens outside of me. Here, now, I am trying to notice mySelf.
So I can aim for practice, while applauding my progress in the realm of noticing. I'm experiencing gratitude for this process and these photos and this space for helping me to notice mySelf.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Bright, spring day surrounded by
Other human bodies and berries and greens and tomato starts
Living things which Mother feeds and grows to bring joy, health, and radiance
Firecracker into a glittercloud of tears
Have no idea how to be human anymore
Can't fathom survival without compromising
Everything I believe in
Spoiling spring breezes
Sustaining systems that break babies
. . .
to be continued . . .
Friday, April 8, 2011
(Bedhead, sleepy eyes. I can already tell it will be one of those days when all I want to do is crawl back into bed all day.)
The more I think about who I want to be and how I want to be and what I want to do in the midst of all this madness that is the world, the more clarity I get about some core things.
1. I want to find a place and stay there for a long, long while.
2. I want to remain committed to my partner for a long, long while.
3. I want to continue to cultivate meaningful relationships with people of a similar political and social understanding of the world for a long, long while. Read: I want to intentionally build and sustain community where I am. This refers to where I am physically and where I am in the head/heart space.
4. I want to invest in getting my needs met and providing access for others to get their needs met outside of capitalism.
5. I want to meaningfully show solidarity with people's struggles all around the world. This includes the ways I used my limited resources.
There will be more to add to this list. But for today, this is it.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Yesterday, I drove to Martinez, CA, for the first time in my life. I wasn't even really sure where Martinez was before then. I took the 680N, exiting just before the tollbooth to a bridge that leads to I-don't-know-where. I followed my scribbled directions (my printer won't work, regardless of the newly inserted print cartridge), heading downtown in what seemed a roundabout way. I found the Contra Costa County Courthouse easily, and got rockstar parking right in front. It was metered, I was running late, and I couldn't find more than a dime in my wallet. Flustered, I asked a passerby if he had change for a dollar. He did, and as I dropped the quarters in the slot, I almost laughed out loud. It took only two of them to buy me an hour of parking - a quarter of the price of metered parking in Oakland.
I bounded up the stairs to the courthouse, realizing far too late in the game that I may have dressed inappropriately.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Last night was the housewarming/honeypie's birthday/safetyfest fundraiser (have you donated yet? http://www.indiegogo.com/safetyfest-2011?c=home) PARTY. The house is warm. Also, dirty.
Today is the first meeting of the QPOC Radical Urban Farmer's Association, membership number currently at two (but hoping to expand rapidly.) This basically means that honeypie and I are painting old planter boxes and getting ready to plant some seeds and starts.