sun's out

after the storm, the world has been scrubbed clean.

the river banks are swollen with rain, the lakes coffee and cream, filled with silt lifted from the sandy bottom.  the surface of the earth is reshaped again and again and the animals find new crevices and hollowed-out places in which to sleep.  trees that were weak are felled, drowned and begin a slow journey back to the soil.

nature is cyclical.  i am cyclical: every full moon (or thereabouts) i am reminded of who i am and where i came from, whether i like it or not.  i remember that i am blood and tissue, bone and breath, but not only these things: i remember that one day, my soul will shed this body (which will begin a slow journey back to the soil) and return to fire, to the spark and the source from which it came.

my moods are cyclical, and i know why they name storms after women, why the sea is a feminine entity to those who travel through it.  drugs can help keep me tempered, but i am FEELING, i am the pull of the moon on the water and stuff gets dredged up--ready or not, here it comes.  whether that pull is joy or pain, it serves a purpose: it electrifies me and i remember that i'm here to do SOMETHING...

if only i had taken notes before my birth and left them somewhere secret, somewhere only i could find them.

but haven't i?

aren't those secrets written into the music that makes me shiver, inscribed in the eyes of the people i love?  i know i've smelled them in the air before the rain falls and heard them in those few seconds between lightning and thunder.  they're right there--maybe just out of reach--on late/early nights with too much wine and wet paintbrushes.  sometimes i check under rocks and leaves...between cracks in the pavement where weeds push through...under my lover's chin. sometimes the answers come clear.  but the other times--when they aren't--are enough to cause me to keep looking.

i'm a seeker...and because i'm not sure what it is i'm looking for, my search will never end.

cheese/sentimentality/thinkin' about stuff

we carry so much baggage with us, the weight of our parents' stories and their parents' stories...traumas and past lives and expectations and pressures.  we change and shift and shrug.  we become stronger and we break open.

yes. ten years ago i was--not a different person--a different version of myself: the ghost of a stone sculpture not yet articulated in sensuous curves and sharp-edged hollows.  i was a dream and a spark of what i am now...and right now, i am a spark of what i will become.

do we ever really get to reach our highest form?  yes.  maybe not while we are alive, but we are born with this perfection, this blazing joyful soul that becomes veiled as we age and learn and become burdened with knowledge and avoidance--and we return to that state in death.  i suppose select few make that transition while in human form: these are the Buddhas and Jesus Christs and Mohammeds and Mother Theresas, the anonymous ones who drag dying brothers to safety and who spend their days feeding and bathing the sick.  But most of us are trying to flip the Rubix cube while we are half-blind and roaring for affection and recognition.

i am no expert in love, though i know that i crave it and need it as much as i need water to keep my body running smoothly, as i crave pieces of dark chocolate on a select few days out of every month.  i know that love has many masks...and that love unmasked is more powerful than the weapons our government spends billions on every week.  i know that i can convince myself that i have it, that i am in it--or that i don't have it and won't ever know it, not truly.

the truth is that i am looking for the freedom that comes from pairing with a person who can look me in the eye as i lay down my burden of stories.  i need a best friend who will cherish me and call me out on my shit.  someone who is imperfect and adept like a chameleon, shifting to fit a mood, a mode of communication, a moment when i am glorious and frightening.  i need a lover who can undress me, and a confidante who can hold me when my mother dies--a partner who will have my back when i'm faced with a gang of demons ready to bludgeon me to death with their stinking fear, and a companion who will play Twister with me while Tom Waits, followed by Radiohead, followed by BB King, followed by Mozart plays on and on and on...

in return, i will offer every bit of who i am.  i will be lovely and sexy and honest and jealous.  i will cry and kiss and soothe with my fingertips.  i will complain and apologize and praise and bless.  i will be there, even when i am not.  i, too will be imperfect, and i will try so hard.  and i will back off and run away, but i will always come back.  and when our paths part, i will still love you.  and when we meet up again, i will not love you less. 

still at war

i wonder if i will ever be able to feel like i deserve to eat.  every bite of food i take is judged, as if it was a reflection of my own personal code of ethics:  is this yogic enough? am i eating it because i enjoy it, or am i eating it to give a big "fuck you" to my inner critic?  is that the best reason to eat something?  will i feel guilty about it in a few hours?  is this going to add to the fleshy curves of my body that i already have mixed feelings about?  is this food rich enough that i'll have to go hiking for 2 hours even though my hamstring is injured and i need rest?

occasionally i still purge.  i can't believe that i used to throw up anywhere up to 6 times every day, sometimes in rapid fire succession.  it amazes me that i never had a heart attack.  i still probably won't know the actual damage i've done to my organs for another two decades.  the pain i sometimes feel to the right of my navel makes me nervous.  then there are, of course, my teeth, which will never be the same...

these days i can sense the point between eating and bingeing, and the point at which i decide i'm going to purge--like running my fingers down the smooth surface of driftwood and finding a nearly imperceptible notch.  at that notch i make my decision.  i usually choose to be gentle with myself and sit with the guilt and anxiety.  every now and then, i'll run straight to the toilet.

the after effects of a purge are similar to the feeling of being drunk or stoned.  an adrenaline rush at the time of vomiting gives way to a numbed out, cotton-wrapped feeling.  my thoughts slow down, my movements slow down.  i get thirsty and dizzy.  it's not a pleasant feeling for me anymore, but i suppose my mind still finds it preferable to the sting of sorrow or rage or loneliness, emotions that felt as though they would kill me when i was younger and--hard to believe--even more sensitive.

then i am pulled way down into a black pit, and the emptiness filling it is called Shame.  no matter how much i try and talk to myself, soothe myself, tell myself i will not beat myself up about my behavior, there is always shame.  the amount of time that it lasts is variable, but it follows close like sound from a jet.

i am in recovery, but not recovered.  i would like to say i am recovered some day.  i know i'll be close when i can stop purging, then stop bingeing/restricting.  in reality, those three behaviors are so closely tied that it's hard to say which i'll be able to stop first.  ideally, they'll all have to go.  the funny thing is that everything is an addiction.  i'm essentially trading one for another, an unhealthy one for a healthy one.  non-attachment is the goal, but that might not happen in this lifetime.  that's why i am so drawn to yoga: yoga teaches me to be separate from the storm though i am in the thick of it.  i am still so reactive: it doesn't help that i am super sensitive and over-analytical.

i told a friend the other day that i believed i wasn't going to be one of the ones that die from their eating disorder.  i do believe this...or do i just want to believe it?  i am strong, but not invincible.  we, as a country, forget about the wars we cannot see, but the battles rage on with our acknowledgement or without it.  in the same way i need to be reminded that i am much more functional than i was when i was 5 years ago, but the scales can be tipped at any time...

i woke up from a 20-minute nap and i was different somehow

i will take the path through the dark
though they're hot upon my heels
i will sail those thousand seas
for i am nothing 
without love

from the song Those Thousand Seas by Claire Tchaikowski


forgive.  smile.  play.  take the time to understand your enemies.  bear forth your broken heart for all to see, then watch as you pull it together and realize your radiant self.  cry.  grieve.  admit defeat and vow revenge...but then soften your anger into sorrow.  take a walk by yourself in the woods--on the beach--and rediscover the cosmos in the curve of a fern or shell.  hum.  sing.  scream at the top of your lungs or sob into your bathwater until it aches.  call someone you haven't in awhile.  ask them questions that have nothing to do with the weather.  express gratitude.  pray with your feet.  drown in booze and wake up thick with regret...then venture out into the sun and sip on tea.  move.  breathe.  eat fruit.  contemplate dyeing your hair...and then don't because no one else needs to know you're in crisis.  touch yourself.  find yourself ravishing.  release and crumple back into the sheets.  cook.  clean.  rearrange the furniture.  cut your toenails and your pants into shorts.  dream.  imagine.  you're traveling...where to?  who do you meet?  what do you say?  how do you feel?  when you are standing alone, are you the same?  when you are together, do you change?  reflect.  meditate.  illuminate the dark spaces that you've always feared.  and love.

love.

love.

above all: love.

thanks

Abundance is eating an entire basket of fresh raspberries still warm from the California sun.

Abundance is swimming under the stars with someone you cannot stop kissing.

Abundance is a luxurious shower with hot water and grapefruit-scented shampoo.

Abundance is uploading and listening to a gorgeous song that carries you through your day.

Abundance is the laughter shared with your mother in the early morning.

Abundance is packing a healthy lunch that will fuel your body and brain come early afternoon.

Abundance is receiving a wonderful massage from someone who genuinely cares whether you are in pain or not.

Abundance is sharing tea and strawberries with someone who leans in to kiss your cheek every so often.

My life is so rich

so full

so exquisitely bursting at the seams with abundance

that I cannot help but express my deep gratitude.