November Beaver Moon

november beaver moon

November’s full Moon was called the Beaver Moon by both the colonists and the Algonquin tribes because this was the time to set beaver traps before the swamps froze, to ensure a supply of warm winter furs.

Ok, here goes:

I let go of fatty waste. 

I let go of stagnant voices.

I let go of emotional traps.

I cultivate smart hibernation.

I cultivate bone-broth-for-the-soul love.

I cultivate this moment, right now.  

Your turn.
Liza Fernandez

tuesday and butterballs

butterballs

Tuesday morning.
I’m thinking on the humdrum of it all…
There’s a song that blew my socks off a few years ago; where suddenly the world contracted into a small butterball in my hand.
The stark realization that we’re all connected, in some way or another.

The song is Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen.
A music video by Baz Luhrmann, one of my all-time filmmaker heroes.
The lyrics are taken from a famous essay — written by Mary Schmich, my yoga teacher and a columnist for the Chicago Tribune.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that
never crossed your worried mind
the kind that blindsides you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Continue reading “tuesday and butterballs”

drip-drop

drip-drops

A drip-drop of sweat.
Suspended
And then — crash!
Like a coin in water, the ripples explode and then — stop.

I look at it.

A flash —
All the healthy eats
Yoga drips
Facial cleansers/toners/creams
Naps
Sun rays and tree shades from Jackie walks
Arguments with lover (not fights, don’t call them that)
Fears
Dreams
Anxieties
Hopes
Gluten-free organic ice cream
7am wakes and late night meetings
Freeway-traffic-pondering’s and —
Hold up!
Shazaam’ing music that glitters the soul.

This drip-drop comes loaded.
It leaves the body, rich with substance and prana
only to die, stained here on this cycling bike.

Don’t you know? —
This drip comes from a machine of a woman.
A warrior, with super-sonic strength;
metal armor to shield her from doubt,
and a heavy burdened crown, a reward of perseverance.

This drip-drop is evidence of
elbow grease soaked in thick, raw passion.
Well, now you know.

mute but screaming

mute but screaming

FADE IN: two at lunch.

She: It’s like the texture of smoke.

He: Right.

She: You can see smoke even though it’s translucent.

He: K.

She: That’s how it felt. It’s there but not.

He: Dark but translucent.

She: Uh-huh. I guess that’s progress, right?

He: I would say. It was way worse before…

She: I know… I still feel the darkness, though.

He: I’m sure that doesn’t go away. I mean, not right away.

She: It can get scary.

He: So, why don’t you call me?

She: I wanted to but for some reason, I couldn’t.

She: Weird how that happens; we’re mute but screaming for help.

He: I get it.

FADE OUT.

taken

taken

I breathe.
It is tense, concerned and contracted.
It’s early, the air asleep.
We got broken into. The garage.
Jackie thinks, bonus! everyone’s up.

Dude, I don’t want to take you out for pee.
I don’t want to pick up your poo.
I don’t want to feed you.

I want to breathe.
Give me a second.

What the fuck happened?
How?
What?
When?

Holes in the skin, I feel violated.
Like a car crash.
Thank God it wasn’t the car.
Valuables, inventory, a guessing game of what was.

Jackie’s diarrhea is at the ready.
He paces in circles, tail anxious.
Come on people, he wants to say.

Stupid us.
It’s on us, all of it.
Hard not to point fingers.
But who fuckin’ cares?
Damage is done.
The lesson came too late.

Diarrhea out. Next step: food.
Jackie circles us expecting the normal routine.
As, well,
We stand like fixtures
Scratching our heads.
A fog in the brain.

third eye business

outta whack

FADE IN: friends over tea.

A: She said my chakras are outta whack.

B: All of them?

A: No, the one’s that count.

B: They all count.

A: The fuckin’ crown chakra and my third eye. My third eye, man! That’s the whole enchilada right there.

B: How bad?

A: Well, the crown is half closed and the third eye is completely shut.

A: Let me repeat myself: it’s fuckin’ shut.

B: Wow. That doesn’t sound like you.

A: You’re telling me! How the fuck do I open it?

B: Wait. Do you believe in that stuff?

A: Well, if you tell someone they’re shitty at something, it gets them going. Especially when you’re talking about the third eye business.

B: But what does that mean to you?

A: Fuckin’. I don’t know. Like God sits there or some shit. It’s serious business. God, I had a feeling, you know.

B: Come on.

A: I’m not fuckin’ playing. I had a feeling, it’s like I new it all along.

B: Okay, so what else did she say?

A: She told me to do this: [raising arms and speaking to the sky] “I SEE.”

B laughs.

A: [Laughing] Daily. Do it with me. [Arms stretched] “I SEE.”

B raises her arms.

A/B: I SEE.

 

FADE OUT.