look at the blue

To sit with myself, has been.....hmmm. Well, not really happening for years perhaps. And the last remembrance of it being delightful may be sometime in childhood. But the memory cannot be trusted. In it's dark moments, no joy can be remembered or believed and in it's joyful moments, nothing but delight has ever existed.

Lying about myself has allowed me entrance and invitations to places I could not have been.
And perhaps should not have been.
Clever girl, just not wise.

But, at some point...like this one, I might be a seal swimming in an ocean of sharks, and my costume is getting very hot and itchy.


I have no idea.
This thing people talk about.... being clear and mindful and whatever. I have been close to people speaking these words and they are full. of. shit. And so we are all.....just mucking around in our own excrement looking to the bright sky, imagining we are as blue as that.

It is the doubters that I can groove with. Anyone out there?

Has anyone really really questioned their own beliefs? Has anyone really dared to see the reality of what they are wading in? The voices shout and coo....it is ok, it is alright, look at the blue, look at the blue, look at the blue.

Now, if I am honest...MORE HONEST.....if I really tell it like it is and sometimes forget to make it funny....well, will it scare away, send running everyone around me? And then will there be a different group that will gather round?


Or, let's forget all that. It is a bit self centered.

Maybe it's just me that needs to find acceptance.....inside myself and for those around me.

I watched a doco about the freedom riders last night. I was smiling throughout it. Generations of oppression, and oppression and still, life comes back with more force....
And it is pushed back down.

And it comes back more wiley, more determined.

And finally it cannot be suffocated. And it is just the way. The earth does not hover above the seedlings so they may rise, they must push through. Same as the newborn baby. Same as everything.

Just like the warm knowing that eventually the earth reclaims even our bones, I find this comforting.
I left a sacred basil plant to die on my balcony....no water, little soil, sideways...nothing nourishing.
But she did not die. And months later I replanted her in proper soil and watered her well and she is big and pretty and thriving out there today, blossoming and smelling as beautiful as she was meant to.

From the ocean of confusion, and the land of uncertainty....from the city of doubt......until next time....