Like any muscle --> my dear heart ❤ torn and rebuilt, torn and rebuilt, torn and rebuilt again.
Growing.
Stronger.
But not without immense pain.
Deep sadness.
Outstanding betrayal.
Loneliness in companionship.
Disorientation and bafflement.
Exhaustion.
Utter and complete exhaustion.
Such is the life of an empath. To feel the joys and wonderment of Earth and the infinite dimensions therein means experiencing too, the dark.
I like dark.
I always have.
News to many.
But not to a few.
So, in case you didn't know:
Sometimes I'm really fucking over it, too.
True story.
But I trudge on.
Through yet another environmental catastrophe.
Another war.
Another rape.
Another abuse of power.
Amidst the bewilderment I see people's true nature, their beauty, their deep wounding, their insecurities, their patterns and history that inform such unseemly behavior.
Surely, men have had a hell of a time wondering why I stop singing when they put me in their pretty, gilded cages. This can be frustrating. Annoying at best. For both bird and keeper.
Really though, it's women that tear my heart into thousands of shattered pieces strewn from one end of the Pacific to the other. It's seeing my own doubts of self-worth manifest in the women before me as they try in all their cunning might to erase me from sight, from their lovers gaze, from their mothers or brothers or sisters good graces, from their academic roundtables or professional conference rooms. I have grown exceptionally weary at the constant attempts of competition, at the friends I've lost for this or that amount of time, at the relationships mangled.
I am not angry.
It's not logical.
Nor useful.
Nor what I feel.
It
Just
Breaks
My
Heart
More than a romantic love lost, the immense lack of solidarity, true solidarity, from my female compatriots, this is cause for most of my tears at night. I LOVE US SO MUCH and somehow it still doesn't seem enough to quell patriarchal conditioning. Locked in an illusion of scarcity, viewing one another as a threat to resources rather than the resources themselves.
What is a world without women who can simply love?
Again,
What is a world without women who LOVE?
Not seduce, not enchant, not flatter, but
.L O V E.
The past three years have held an abundance of new challenges. Ones I had never met before nor ever imagined. From the overwhelming heartbreak of nuclear catastrophe to the simple and beautiful heartbreak(s) of being in love with a boy. At the root - suffering is self induced, woven and welcomed as parts of the web.
And though life has left me feeling like a breathless bag of bones sitting quietly on the floor...I still make music. Each new assault, each additional blow while I'm down -- rattles this ancient skeleton, releasing a delicate and haunting melody into the ethers. A song of perseverance. A song of grace.
///----------->>
Over next week, during a deep meditative retreat, my daily blog will occur in the pages of this notebook rather than the pages of the web.
Taking a technology fast.
Au revoir, screens.
Bonjour, longhand.
Walking into a space of sheer observation. Letting teaching wash over me, sink into my pores, hopeful to hear what awakens, what arises from my own consciousness. The healing of acceptance, the empowerment of ferocious vulnerability.
It's a new year.
A new moon.
Darkness.
Blankness.
Lightness.
