April’s pink moon came from the herb moss pink, or wild ground phlox, which is one of the earliest widespread flowers of the spring. Other names for this month’s celestial body include the Full Sprouting Grass Moon, the Egg Moon, and among coastal tribes the Full Fish Moon, because this was the time that the shad swam upstream to spawn.
I love this. Ok, here are my Egg Moon offerings:
I let go of putrid skin.
I let go of weed-like grooves.
I let go of degradation.
I cultivate inner value.
I cultivate being held.
I cultivate upleveling.
Extreme focus ready to rock the day.
Mind at the service of the body.
At the ready,
What do you WANT to do today?
God, I get so overwhelmed by possibility.
Today’s explorations are endless!
It is like energy bottled, and ready for drinking.
And then here’s the thing:
I fear someone will take it away.
I fear I have to give it up, take on someone else’s wishes.
It haunts me. I stiffen at the idea of it.
And then (the irony), I yearn for it.
Maybe some rest, or going over there is a better choice.
Bills, calls, dishes, laundry, etc,
The unexpectedness of life,
Freedom is having the choice
To use my own velocity the way I want to.
To make decision deep within the soils of the soul
So I can birth strong roots to grow a magnificent plant
With leaves that stretch for days,
To nurture not just her,
But all those around her.
It’s the same ol’
Tit for tat
Just like that
How many times
Do I have to ask
Why isn’t it done yet?
Lost in translation
All the best of intentions
The other side doesn’t get it
Just, accept things as is.
Make me feel better
Let me rest
Take the reigns
It can all go away.
Impatience taking over layers of exhaustion
The same ol’
Like a monologue on repeat
A record with no stop to it
Where did it all go?
I don’t want to go to bed like this
And it’s happened all week
Close my eyes
Dreams, sweep me
Let EscapeLand whisk me
Tomorrow will be better
We’ll be nicer to each other
A new page,
A new day.
Weeks, since writing.
Cause? Open heart surgery.
Recuperating is like watching hair grow.
He said many things.
She did the same.
Words, on repeat, like radio.
You don’t really know someone.. until you do.
A wakeup call.
We went from green to red.
I take responsibility.
For stepping over my boundaries.
I carry that mark.
Wounds, please heal fast.
I hope time is our friend, my love.
What a time to be disconnected
In this beautiful, vast cyber city.
What should be hibernation with cuddles and warm blankets
What should be hugs holding us through the night –
Let’s see how it turns out…
Heart. Pride. Certainty. Love.
Silence, even if it’s only for a few minutes
I come to,
Coming out of Salvador Dali dreams
I am peeking my eyes open, like a secret unfolding
I am breathing in the long night’s pillows and blankets
The smells of Dreamlandia
Silly, inconsequential memories arise
Like counting sheep
These dreams are colors, shapes, and the strangest of narratives
I believe them all
Like a child, all in
Scary yet familiar
Like Terminator; a stranger within a friend
Metal on vulnerable skin,
Oh silence, I salute you.
Fog, sleepy sun, empty streets
The greenery outside stretches their limbs from the long night
Yes, here’s the in-between
Here’s the gray
When the inner Self approaches and softly whispers to the soul,
“Today is a gift.”
FADE IN: a woman at the mic in a bar.
I just woke up one day and thought, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. I wanted to kill my supervisor, is what I wanted to do. And the only reason why I haven’t already done so is cuz I can’t drive my new car in jail.
Yup, I shop.
I’m a complete consumer and I described that as poverty deprivation.
“I need that because it’s going to do something wonderful to my life,” or “Ooooooh, that’s shiny” or “Oh, I know that’ll come in handy one day.”…. and then that shit just sits there. The Amazon Echo Dot? Don’t get it. Waste of your time and money.
What I want is travel and to do things that don’t pertain to products.
I want experiences.
I want to face fears and follow my gut.
I want the Unknown, even though it scares the Holy BeJesus outta me.
But right now
I can’t because I’m always in poverty deprivation, buying and buying and buying.
There’s a calling inside of me.
I can feel it.
But the not knowing makes me cling to what is tangible, the little things that bring little comfort right now, and eventually finds itself in my garage.
In a box. With a box, within a box.
I’m 50 years old.
Someone is pressing fast forward on my recorder, man.
I feel a calling.
A tiny voice,
And I wanna bring that to life.
I need to think outside the box.
Get out of the garage inside my head.
Step away from my computer, and outside my door.
Take some Unknown steps.
Yup, that’s me.
Monday afternoon in bed.
The sound of lawn being mowed in the distance
The sound of a plane zooming by
Planes make me think of my father
And how time stands still when you look up
The clouds, the moon, butterflies, how light dances for us…
My mind races
I want to do so many things
The list can feel debilitating
And then my dog weighs his head on my lap
His nose prevents me from typing.
Stop, he gently suggests.
I am making space for you, my dear old friend
Nature, Grace, Divinity.
I am carving it out.
Making space for you to guide me forward, what to do next.
The creative burst that’ll poke its head from around the corner, wooing me to –
Come this way.
Continue reading “I carve this for you”