I go out, and back in again, out and back in again. The non duality calls peel it all away and i know myself as the now. I get off the call and im asleep worrying about that call i should make to my Dad (while seething with pangs of rage fluctuated by sickening repulsion and immobilising fear). I dont mind. Im practising not minding that im a clown fish. Im okay too with the ways that my deeply ingrained blueness likes work and has found comfort in order. Theres plenty of order in the space but its taking some counter intuative relaxing to enter in. And that was clear; from when i was little - why do most people get crusty when they age. Because they decline the letting go of things theyve worked so hard for. They form attachments like grand ole idols, golden calfs that keep them in the desert. They get over the river but dont actually enter the promised land. (Moses). As we continue, each day napping away the hours, i pray you take great delight in each time you wake, with simple gratitude that you even can and that the joy is in hearing yourself snore so loud, you can wake yourself up over and over. What a funny game. https://youtu.be/dkLSIb4oImE?si=IBAV0xznufPjXtOK

The spiritual path can feel like peeling back the layers of an onion with healing and practices and awareness and knowledge. I mean, its a worthy path and none of us would be here if we weren't invested in our betterment. But over the last few months I've felt like im throwing it all away. Don't get me wrong, I've loved my journey and its been passionately liberating. My life is completely different and I've never been happier. But doesn't that make you sick? Im in a space floating in...well, space - spaceousness; and there's nothing there. None of the stuff that got me here exists. Like the core of the onion is a void. Im in a kind of holding pen, waiting...perhaps for an idea, or to just start something. But what. Anything. Do I have to? Ive never been so bored of signalling. None of it really matters to me. Not the ceremonies, the tokens or symbols, the activism or the sacrilege. Its all just as valid as tiolet paper which by the way is more important than any of it if youve just taken a dump. I hope I get to be of assistance like some obscure tool that sits in an old wooden drawer in the shed, forgotten, until one day, is the very key to something wildly transformational. And maybe I have dellusions of grandure while all the while, being magical in nature and the sublime tonic in a thousand ways I'll never know. In any case, its wonderful to be life and dispite all the pain I've ever experienced, I hope I come back again and again to play and relax and unwind in the poetry of being this.

im sure i can figure out how to dance on one leg 🙂

my brother died today- when i heard, no managers, no firefighters- just raw intense emotion- it was as truly glorious- to feel so intensely, so authentically. Gratitude to the full depth and breath of life. I am in awe of how much I can truly feel. Grief is an amazing expression of humanness-

This year I’ve been moving through some profound shifts that have completely transformed the person I am. It feels like all the years of being in this community has been one big ayahuasca trip that I’ve spent the last 5 months integrating 😅. The thing that I have been struggling with is putting it all into words. Most of what I have moved through has been felt in my body and as time has gone by - clarity has come through as a by product but not necessarily in words. I feel it in my cells, I feel it in my heart and I feel it as deep knowing within. What has come up for me lately is this wound of not feeling understood or seen.. and because I haven’t been able to fully articulate all that I’ve moved through, it almost feels like these shifts have just been happening in complete silence.. no words. No perfectly articulated message or a profound single realization.. so for the part of me that deeply desires validation.. did the shifts even happen at all? If I haven’t had a profound shift that I can articulate perfectly into art - does it even matter? As I sit with myself in that - i realized that the part of me that cares is a little girl that learned: “If they don't clap, if they don't respond, if they don't reflect me... maybe I don't exist. Maybe I'm not lovable unless I'm doing something people can see.” Ooofff so many tears have moved through me feeling the pain of the little girl that equated her worth with something she needed to “do” or “become” .. recognition equaled safety growing up and the absence of that felt like complete abandonment. I’m holding two parts - the part of me that has done the work and knows deeply that my worth is INHERENT while also seeing / feeling the part of me that still hurts when I’m not able to be acknowledged in it all. And I will admit, I’ve wanted to push that part away for so long. Why the f do I care? If I didn’t care - then I’d be able to show up authentically without this performative desire to have to prove anything??