where i wanted to go

Really, it's true. I had always believed a place existed like this one. I had dreamed of it and driven in search of it for years.

I'd like to imagine that my ancestors left Europe with the same kind of idea, but their boat sailed in the wrong direction and when they landed they were too tired to trek across the continent to get on another boat to end up where they belonged. I wonder if they thought of me sometimes, maybe at night when they were so tired and wondering why they had left all they knew for an idea. Maybe they thought generations ahead and hoped all their work would be appreciated by their children's children's children's children. And I imagine now that down through time that driving spark lit me up and I decided to leave all I knew for an idea. In search of home.

From the first view of this sea and the first soak in a hot spring and the first southern hemisphere starry night and the first Maori tattoo and the first rugby game I have known over and over, deeper and deeper that I am home.

Aotearoa, I may leave you for a spell, but you will never leave me. Sweet land, thank you for showing me home. You were worth every thing I had to lose, and everything I had to endure.

I love you like only home can be loved.

random bliss

i've drawn a line in the sand.

god, i wish i could write something well that's non-emo. fuck.

line in the sand. upon closer inspection, a line in the sand is so indefinite. so approximate.

at some point, which side the little grains belong to is impossible to know. for sure.

no more lines in the sand, unless it's purely for artistic purposes and not for definition.

i'm reading a great book about love. mostly it reminds me how short i fall, and i don't mind knowing. 33 years into this life and a new model is warranted.

the year is peeling itself off of me quickly. this could be the year of crucifixion. yes. oh my god please let that be it. i'm being betrayed with kisses, then crucified and then i'll descend to hell for no more than 3 days. how does time work in hell anyway? then, the rising again. the likely truth is that i'll have no idea when any of this is happening until it's well over and i'm sitting amongst friends showing them my scars as proof that although unrecognizable, i am still this girl.

this week's word is ungraceful. as if i've ever been, except maybe on horseback.

oh, love.

"think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course."

what a means of travel!

"to know the pain of too much tenderness.

to be wounded by your own understanding of love;

and to bleed willingly and joyfully."

it all sounds so romantic as an idea, and it caresses like poetry does. but when bleeding is happening, to be willing and joyful is more than a little formidable.

as connections go, this one that is morphing into a new creature is as deep as i knew a connection could be. i have allowed it to shape me and mold me and i am grateful for the chance to experience that. the process continues. quiet and surrender. quiet and surrender. quiet and surrender.

not for a payoff at the end, but for the actual adventure itself.

no line in the sand. not goodbye.

the battle of non and verbal

it is infinitely helpful to watch one's own self. i find.

beyond the few basic things i packed into bags to start a new life....like practical things for sleeping and wearing, a phone, a book, a laptop..........

three things

yoga mat

tambourine

honey

what does a cosmic clown find to do when she isn't trying to be approved of or rebelling against her desire for approval?

she looks at what she has packed and weaves the pieces together for the sake of magic and love and beauty.

and you, of course. for the sake of you.

calling all scorpios, or just one really

Oh dear.

I received this....well, idea. A little click of understanding, a peek behind me that illuminates the present moment.

Girls, girls.

Randomly, my sweet, blond girlfriend, (an Amazonian Banshee Priestess who will purr contentedly when touched if you dare get that close) contacted me.

All at once, I feel our past weaving through my cells. And as the experience of her and I is so entirely intertwined with the experience of the web of the collective us......Jesus.

Us as in the amazing and lovely tribe of Sheras I have been blessed enough to fall in love with.

In love.

I didn't know how to be in love with them at first, but after a few years of the sweetest subterranean bliss and blood communal experience, and (this is the important part) the recurring presence at that level of their unconditional support and love, I no longer knew how not to be. We have been living this way for years....in love with each other individually and as a group. This love has reached most levels of being at different times quite naturally and then retreats back without a hitch. We fight and get jealous and then burn right through it and become even closer, like a really good marriage of multiple people.

So, the imprint of a decade of polyamory with these priestesses of love has aroused in me the possibility of the same intimacy in a greater context. What has happened spontaneously among an expanding group of incredibly imperfect people must be entirely doable on purpose, right?

This is worth a study....

Wanna help me out with this one? Anyone know an intelligent woman who studied anthropology at UofM?

ruby tuesday

This moment.......this very moment my little brother (brave soul) is in a hospital room with his wife birthing their second baby. My mother and father are no doubt nearby, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the new love of their life.

Craziness. Crazy love that can manifest a whole new soul into a body and then into the world.

Meanwhile, in the underbelly, his aunt is driving by the zoo, sunlight dancing, flashing through the treetops, flirting with her broken heart, inviting her to open up. And something about that interplay reminds her of Auckland in 2008. One Tree Hill in late summer, deep blue sea romancing her so completely she set all previous plans aside to......yes, we know that story.......and she wonders to herself if this is the way she goes. Is this her method of transportation? How about that?

At present, she is so distracted by the bright sun on her head, the waves rushing in to Lyall Bay, and the sleeping mountains curling themselves around her city like a great, comfortable cat that she is close to being convinced that her mode of transport is genius without any more thought of it. And that is how it is. A beautiful moment quiets the dialogue and she cannot help herself from getting up and dancing to it.