I'm different--

Oh, my favorite part of being, of moving, of existing!  The sensation of "feeling"  different.  A sense of taking a bite of a forbidden fruit and ingesting the magic of the taste, the essence of a something sensation.

That's how I feel after vacation, as though I have "drank from the punch"(if you don't know what that means, I can't help you) changed and changed shape into the directness of this time.  Returning from vacation I feel bright. whole and connected to a deep sense of me.  One that rests on the top of my heart, right near the ventricle.  The space where the breath enters my lung.  I've danced that ballet, the use of the heart as it encompasses the life and generates it outward.  I was held in a glass cubicle with smoke pumped into the cube, and I with and without a gas mask, danced in time with the elements.  I hope that I sparked a piece of brilliance in a mind.  The choreographer was a successful engineer who was working on a heart for transplant patients.  I wonder if my sense of that experience affected a heart whether nature made or man made. 

I practiced letting my lungs hang within me.  I let them take up immense space within my small torso with high hips and leg bones, emotion and reprieve.  Throat long and loose, sending breath to the lung, as it hung and I marched or walked or hiked into the 30minute zone.  Looking at the clock? yes, making good time.  Take deep breaths, deep breaths into those lungs of mine. 


It sounds poetic until you try walking 2 miles in that mindset.  Taking  your best person forward.  Free from the ego that moves bodies through space on the sidewalk, into and out of my life.  Posing as representations of what my body should be able to achieve, while I work with the material I have at my fingertips at my toe prints.  I'm working.  I'm moving and working and sharing and reaching and being and loving and losing and learning and most of all feeling.  I was feeling something different.  Different, I'm different and I'm fine.

Stretching the ties to your self control

Here it is again the conflict.  The lack of understanding combined with the willingness to learn to manage.  I often reflect on the qualities that I'm lacking in my communication and relationship skills.  So today I am taking the opportunity to commend the qualities of myself that I admire.

I forgive those who have hurt or spoken harshly to me.
I speak from the heart about matters of the heart.
I offer a shoulder and a hand to a friend in need with a smile and a hug.
I recognize the wealth of humanity within me and find ways to express and share it.
I learn to think before I speak.
I try to not take things personally.
People don't hurt me or make me sad, I choose to be hurt and I choose to be sad.
I need the sunshine to lift my spirits.
I need the moonlight to refill my vessel.
I long for romance and poetry everyday.
I hope for warmth and comfort from the arms of the man I love.
I breath.
I respond.
I decide how to move forward with instinct.
I honor myself.

i just want to be a fairy

That's how my journal entry begins.  Years and years ago, in a time when I understood the gentle concept of love, the warmth of only my angst, and the careful sling of my family.  I just want to be a fairy dancing in a ballet again.  I am believing that if I imagine myself so, whether I am dead or alive--That is what I'll be.  A Willi in the the treetops.  A princess in rags or jewels waiting for the touch a a fairy, the touch of me. 

I am springing and

twirling and

flying arms

pumping

in my

dreams

keeping me a float

for a joke, mega seconds it seems

the breath

mistakes me, leaves me up, emote, unseen, unheard, underneath

lift me up to the treetops and I stream my gaze upon the green and lush with a patch of barren

that I can't seem to do with much

The Dream

the toast

the warmth

the fog

the uncertainty

and

make believe

of that place

I call HOME

that I search to find,

always in me.

Over and Under, over in the breeze, clinging from the rooftops, the treetops, the clifftop,

child in hand,

mystery in mark,

destiny lifted

an opened

and received

and given

and sent back

with three.  To the place the place of my tree,

open stride,

open pride,

open door to me and over andagain andunder me.

Ever again in my mind

scratching my body for some relief--go to the place where the gravestone lay.  So I walk, I ride and stumble by and then press on the path so effortlessly high.  Up to the hilltop of my fairytale in tow be me

beneath the quake of the roaring sea. 

And transfixed on the eye in the cavern,

in the sky.

I glance upon my eye

a ship of great weight

and of such great size. 

Amidst the wide ocean

my heart lay on the dream

and lost in the loves of the deeep dark sea--ME.

Back to the barre where I breath for the time

waiting

for love

to come

back if I am around.

Whited out,

backed,

upon the plank

of my deep darkened fear. 

Crippled,

injected,

set rest

to mend

tender. Her discontent for the dance is the meddler with spice and grief and good times of three.

mend Mend  mend

and alter this tree, this, this land land, this crop, this drop!

One Drop and Screw

this is a job

the will will outdo

the rest of you. 

Out on the scene with 5 stories to represent. 

I masked under pressure

and fell without rescue

from the heavens. 

Dancing without

a strength.