February’s Moon is traditionally called the Snow Moon because usually the heaviest snows fall in February. This name dates back to the Native Americans during Colonial times when the Moons were a way of tracking the seasons. And the Native Americans were right. On average, February is the USA’s snowiest month, according to data from the National Weather Service.
Ok, sweet Snow Moon, here goes:
I let go of unnecessary weight
I let go of dark energy
I let go of stagnation.
I cultivate cave days!
I cultivate creative growth during hibernation
I cultivate elephant pace, royal grace.
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.
Wow, what a month
We have sent 2017 to be archived
Like a book on the shelf of life
Locked and loaded – we made it!
It’s a time of celebration
Mom, sister, brother, all alive and kickin’
My love and dog, healthy; and lifestyle overflowing
To think, some moons ago, I hated this time
Anniversaries were my annual death
I wailed, isolated myself, stabbed big knives into deep wounds.
My poor love would watch, at my side, hopeless.
Whether it was body, mind, career, money
It was all Hubris
And thank God, forgivable.
How can I digest 2017’s feast with greater celebration?
So I can dance through 2018 with purpose and joy and grace,
Like tea with dear old friends?
Time keeps on tock-ticking
Oh, stop it mind —
I fear death may very well be around the corner
I fear that this new awakening inside means I have “arrived”
Please, not yet.
Whether it be the hauntings of my father’s end
Or other such silly self-inflicted hurty-poo’s
I have dreams that are loading.
Let’s load for a little while.
January’s blue moon is a SUPERMOON, with the moon being at it’s closest point to the earth making the Full Moon brighter and larger. It gets even better with a Total Lunar Eclipse visible in the western United States on January 31st.
Oh, you blue beautiful thing, here goes:
I let go of unnecessary weight
I let go of hiding
I let go of perfection.
I cultivate playfulness
I cultivate courage
I cultivate my Divine Self.
FADE IN: Two women, one smokes.
A: I was in a Uber car, well, really Lyft but you get what I mean. The driver, Jamal, asked me what I do. I said nothing. No really, I said, “Nothing,” all nonchalant and shit. He took a second to understand, much like me, really, I mean who says that?
I said nothing. Ugh. What kind of despicable human, am I?
A week later, I’m at this yoga retreat and someone asked me again. I was just about to answer Nothing, when I stopped myself and took a sip of my organic hot apple cider, and pretended I didn’t hear them. Or maybe I pretended to react like I was still thinking about what we just talked about. I looked stupid, is all. Well, if I’m not sure what your intentions are I’m going to blow you off.
[beat, she smokes]
Why do I do that? I know damn well who I am. Why is it hard to say it, “Who me? Oh, sure, I’m an Artist, with a capital A.” Or, “What do I do? I do greatness. I am greatness.”
[she laughs, and smokes]
You know, Mohammed Ali would say that, “Who me? I’m the greatest.” So why can’t I?
B: You can.
Continue reading “dip your toe”
Thousands of miles above sea level
And land and civilians and traffic and highways
And byways and freeways and schools and corners shops.
How travel does good to the soul!
My eyes are tired but my heart is vibrant
And gratefully acknowledged.
Who knows what this journey brings
Life is vast and yet horrifically short
These hard facts humble me
And so, I am awake.
Conversations in foreign tongue surround us
Kitchen smells from last minute bites fill the air,
Like smoke from a magician’s show!
A few seats up, kids squeal with delight
My spirit dances with them.
Oh, how the unknown excites me!
Oh, let us dream and toast
And dream again to the wondrous surprises
That lie ahead.
Violeta Parra was Chilean
Thanks to life (Thankful for life) (Thanks to Life)
which has given me so much
He gave me two eyes,
And in the sky,
her starry background
and the crowds,
the man I love.
Continue reading “gracias a la vida”