My Stomach Turns.thepage

No amount of food or desire of my tongue will satiate this unbearable hunger.

The hungry ghost ravages and feeds, spoiling my stomach with any delectable taste it can imagine; "here you go," and "have this," and "try this," to no avail.

In the end, I am only left with the gutwriggling sharp pangs of disheartening reality.


There was a time I could wildly devour this intense anxiety without even the slightest retaliation, secretly banishing mounds of food and feelings to my belly until it could stretch no more.

As my continually evolving spirit is birthed and expressed in physical form, it declares a slowly decaying pattern here, demanding a deeper awareness be cultivated.

Only the Deepest of Pleasure

I pine for only the deepest of pleasure.

Not the pleasure that sweetens my tongue,
drips down to my heart in a ripple of waves,
then crawls back up again, asking for more.

But the pleasure of feeding my soul
with my own hands, the gentle nourishment,
hearty and green, extending through my lower belly and beyond.

Not just the pleasure of emptying my heart
onto a blindingly blank page,
only to have more and more to purge.

I want to scribble my heart onto the walls of my room,
spilling onto the paved sidewalks,
around the block and up the hill,
to the ocean, scribbling in the sand,
retracing a spiraling labyrinth, over and over,
sinking deeper into millions of grains with each guided revolution.

I want to sit. I want to soften and open.
And just sit.

And experience my ecstatic body shaking,
my head hypnotically circling,
my torso rocking as dynamic life force
courses through the deepest of spaces within.

Inquiry To Go

What are you working on?
What moves you, each step you take?
One step closer to knowing.

Pull that thread loose.
Yes, that one right there,
which tickles your resistance.

Write it down,
something you don't know.
Something you want to know.

Please write it down.
Then, like a scientist,
ask questions of the space around you.

Ask bus stop ads,
ask books on shelves,
ask the images hiding in the imperfections of your wood floor.

You are surrounded by friends with answers.

Then notice the obvious,

this, your most potent answer.
Obvious means you know it when it seizes your attention.
If you miss its slap across your face,
consider that you've purposefully ignored it.

So, this answer doesn't satiate your desire, you say.
Why, this answer only brings up another question, now does it?
Well, unravel that one, too.

Follow your most burning of questions, love.

And PLEASE, write it down.
On a small folded piece of paper,
that fits in your pocket.

Take it to go.
Revisit it many times today, my friend.
And PAY ATTENTION,
to keep this, your most imperative work, alive.

Abre Camino

An accosting kitty implants irritation
in my skin with every scratch.
Dried cinnamon & oatmeal residue taunts
of the endless obligation of renewal.
Indefinite wanderer,
fire-ant swollen body reactions.
This, too, I can include.

Rinse repeat

I am looking forward to becoming a more pure and clear channel of color. I wish you the same, to be opened in love, during these tumultuous times, dear one.

Full moon heart beam

love geyser full stream
washing the space inside me.
Clean and buzzing pleasure
wherever i plunge.
I want to share it's
contagious vibrations.

Listen to my skin
it quivers
electric surrender.
My heart swells
like a sponge soaking
in hot vitality.
I want to get gritty
rolling in dirt
made of you.

Practice has steeped me in now.

My senses are swooning.

No Chicken Soup Needed

Lemme splain... No, I don't mean I don't believe in nourishment for the soul, in terms of chicken soup symbolism. I firmly believe in daily nourishment, and for me, I prefer something like Hafiz.

And no, I don't have anything against Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I can't say I don't enjoy a heart warming syrupy recollection every now and again.

I simply mean, my soul is not sick. And it desires texture and the deepest of inquiry. When I say espresso, you say LIT UP. Here, I invite a space for acceleration on the most direct path. And I don't mean direct, as in linear. I mean a turning toward...THAT right there which most calls your attention. Yes, even that. And especially that!

But, if we're talking about actual elixirs that rev up my soul, a celery, apple, spinach, parsley, mint, ginger & lime juice will deliver a high speed sustainable ride, as opposed to the crash and burn of caffeine. While just the tiniest touch of espresso may certainly light the fire under my ass, I find caffeine aggravating to my vata tendencies, the airy and unstable constitution in Ayurvedic medicine. But, lets face it, espresso for the soul makes a better point of it.

Sweet as me

A deep aubergine curtain drops, the final act of my played out drama. Its weighing pull at peace, at once silenced by the substantial weight of this plush curtain unraveled by grace.

Luscious pile of dark quiet. Delicious quiet. FINALLY quiet.
I sense a deeper light, now heralding a new center of attention.

Two baby.blue.bird confections flutter and delight to nestle in my curled tongue. A flirtatious gust of mingling cherry blossoms streams forth from my unfurled mouth. Pink sprinkles, joyful jiggling flecks of sugar closely play in pairs atop my candy heart. Vanilla bean frozen yogurt coils a pretty pile of my intestines. Rich raspberry drizzle paints a squiggle dOt! that marks the spot.

My intent finger traces sweet lemony filling, spiraling delectable yellow labyrinths. And on, endlesssly spiraling smooth lemon lemon lemon.