Elemental Messages

Spirit leads me in the exciting dance. Dips me back.
I suddenly breathe in.

Earth is one-pointedness. Wise grandfather staying in his place knows the answer. "I'll be here."

Air takes my mind by the hand and spoonfeeds it the motions.

Water, smooth and fluid, shifts my mood just like that. Free floating patterns unwind. Can i swim here?

Fire sprinkles little drops of burn, like watching an area on the sidewalk fill in when it first starts to rain.

I shouldn't write such gloomy things.

Today, the mad tide rushes in. The new moon springs forward to barely waxing.

A small diamond sparkled girl with long copper locks tosses and flips about, surrendered to the undertow within my torso. Unknowingly, she begins to sink towards the dark and fertile waters of my lower belly. As she realizes where she is headed, terror overcomes her in this transition. Tendrils of darkness touch her and her anxiety is at once hushed. Reminded, she quietly curls into the fetal and enters an indefinite, restful sleep of the deepest kind.

I want you to hear this.

An intimidating drill pokes and wriggles to the right of my belly button, incessantly taunting discomfort. Ouch. Would it make any difference if this was the seashell kind of an auger? I breathe and envision a pink pearlescent cone shell, in its same uncomfortable place, in its same uncomfortable motion. You know, it STILL hurts. Only now, its more beautiful, and hence, I am more willing to experience it fully. Now, instead of shielding my face, squeamishly stealing peeks through my hands, I finally allow the uncomfortable wriggles to wash over and through me. As each rich and gnarling revolution passes through my senses, I am somehow comforted in the idea that I will never have to feel THAT one again.

I don't care if I do this right. It's gotta come out. I look down at the fine movements of my rapidly typing forearms. They are glowing, white hot, and burning their thin and stringy shape into my field of vision.

Outside my window, the clingy pacific sky, an indigo-violet femininity, chases the receding coral sun with its grabby fingers. Something in these transitions is alarming, even panic inducing. The destined night sky surrenders its grasp on the day, its imploring fingers, now resembling something more of a wave goodnight. With my gaze fixated, this merciful scene showers a cool and softening purple inside my upper belly, graciously retiring the uneasy machinery for the evening.

Things are brighter, louder, and clearer for you here.

"Wow, you've got a beautiful smile! But, I'm afraid I have some bad news..."

...the reassuring words of a boss, just before cluing me in to my termination with the company, today. But, this 'bad' news didn't exactly resonate with me. My stunning smile and feelings of happiness grew uncontrollably as I realized- it's about to get EVEN better. So, I dive right in and take bait.

I'm with you, Universe! Lets go!

Scaling the epic Nob Hill of San Francisco, just minutes before, I began to prepare myself for this highly anticipated meeting. Heading toward the top-rated spa where I (used to) work, I drop down for a check in. I feel the distinct sensation of warm, demanding pressure, wispy cloud lightness, and expansive sky.colored space inside my throat. All of these sensations together feel like a tiny helium balloon is living inside my neck. My relaxed body below dangles, hovering above ground and streaming, like colored ribbon tied on a child's balloon. My legs, travel smoothly, like underwater scuba kicks. glub glub. But, all my attention and focus is pulled to my throat now, as its determination carries me along. My head discreetly bobs atop the mini.model of the ever.expanding universe, projected inside my neck.

So, in an ongoing massage client relationship, after working with a specific place of tension in the body, a person's complaint area often begins to shift around, as the client's body opens and he or she becomes aware of where else tension is held. Similar to this phenomenon in bodywork, the experience of unyielding pressure and expansion continues to creep up my energetic body, inching higher and higher, as I surrender to its push. In either case, I say, things are moving. This is a good thing.

Is this spiritual evolution [cant wait!]?

Things are moving at an accelerated pace for me, and a friend from work reiterates this thought bubble as I share the fresh news with him on the way out. "This place is a way station. You've got other things going on, right? Yeah, everyone here does. Some move through faster. Some move through slower," he reminds me.

way station (n.)

:a station between principal stations on a route.

Let me remind of you just HOW accelerated (or how often) things in my life are moving. In the preceding year, I have lived in at least nine different abodes. The map below outlines each place with its numbered order, location, and accompanying catch phrase.

View Cribs in SF in a larger map.


Home, today, feels like this:
::::::::::A place where I can play sleepy for a bit.
:::::::::Safe. Quiet.

:::::::::::My legs glow in negative colors, tonal inversion.

::::::::::::::A place to go and grow inside.
:::::::::::Sweet cottony cocoon.

What It Feels Like to Have a New Blog

What am I actually experiencing?

I tab over to my live blog, setting my eyes on the blank page. I feel the sensation of a bag of stones and Styrofoam balls inside my stomach, shuffling around inside of a plastic lining. Every single experience or feeling that I have contained, repressed, stuffed inside me, and stored in my stomach, stirs restlessly inside the bag containing it. I feel each morsel, eager for expression, jump as if it wants to be vomited, in an energetic Pollock splatter onto the monitor. They sure are ready to come out.

Micro::::Macro

P o l l o c k s p l a t t e r

My heart sees the blank page and relaxes back into its easy chair. It feels comforted with a sense of home, an intentional and specific location with boundaries, where it can express its voice. I feel a 2-way bridge, a thick beam of light, between the page and my chest. One glowing stream moves from the screen into my chest and the other radiant beam, stacked directly below it, flows in the opposite direction. I see the background white space reflected inside my heart, and I see the dark and swirling patterns of my heart (think 'satellite image of a hurricane in motion') superimposed upon the page, adding a layer of depth and contribution to this brand spanking new format.