Today this space is sunlit and elevated for the shift that's coming with the Aquarian new moon. Am thinking about what metaphorical seeds I want to plant then. Also note the background glimpse of an area in the room that I think of as collage fodder purgatory. Haven't looked at anything there for four years or so. Thinking this may change sooner than later but we'll see.
Throughout the past ten days or so, I've been looking at this page from an orange-yellow-gold color collection journal all the time. I have it open for ongoing viewing on my desk. Although I wasn't thinking on any kind of subtextual level, or considering layering meaning as well as color application, in this moment of time it seems inspired to remind myself that all sacral questions seek the resolution of volitionary action.
some days ago I called an official time out on my main blog. It doesn't work to post there when I'm immersed in something as deep as it is personal. My internalized/frail ego/vulnerability level in such times can't sustain the entire premise and purpose of that particular sharing space. But this blog doesn't aim (or need) to set either the same standard or tone. After the time out set root of a productive nature, somebody I mentor came around to that blog's comments section and invoked all kindsa yellow/solar/leo energy he knows to be the crux of my earthly soul's resilience factor.
i thought it was - at best - aspirational on his part.
but it worked. That's the main thing.
the deeper purpose of recent soul growth-work is making more than adequate space for itself. Within that space I've begun to articulate the overwhelming season of loss I experienced - beginning around this point in the years calendar - that was due in large part to Covid.
Near the beginning of solar month I discovered the resin smudged note while tidying up. It's from years ago. In the process of awaiting something 'worthy' I turned some kind of intentional corner so that I simply wanted to find it a comfortable home.
One of the stampings was placed to headline a snippet of narrative. I held this cloth in my hand and read the words in my handwriting seven or eight times. I have no idea wtf this refers to. Not just what but whom. My twenty first year was quixotic and relatively untethered. It spanned (this sounds way more glamorous and noteworthy in its episodic qualities than it actually was, by far ...) 3 continents and 7 countries within the first five calendar months. I knew - in the walking around sense - any number of men who routinely betrayed themselves. After squeezing my mind on the subject, I can think of three who semi-routinely fell on their sword for me. The four of us were yoked to a highly disorganized, recreationally unpleasant, and insufferably narcissistic boss. Nuff sed.
am both baffled and intriqued by the personal mystery factory. have resolved to steam refresh, then press smooth. Hand sew stay stitching at the edges. Hoop it up and backstitch my words into place. Keep going from there.
i like the idea of this showing up somewhere that won't matter to me with somebody i won't know saying 'i wonder what THIS was all about.'
i would not be able to tell them even if I could magically be there to speak in human language once more.
speaking of words - this is what two-pass working draft quality now looks like as I wend my way through the previously procrastinated, emotionally and mechanically difficult corridors of my novel-writing project. Think it's obvious I keep doing this Thing on a primarily daily basis. In the past while there have been a few days in a row when I didn't write. The self-mother in me would not allow it. In that time the sun didn't shine in the literal sense. I sat on the couch and let myself be held in the love of friends as well as my personal faith in the larger universe of healing and happenstance. This one's going to take awhile to situate and explore with the necessary level of fearlessness. Otherwise there's no point. I'm not a healing-lite kind of person.
note: the two children in this snippet are 4 and half years old. Cici is unwanted by her family (although deeply treasured and loved by Carter's people) and is thus passed around from relative to relative. Dominic's her oldest cousin, who was similarly treated in his youth, and has thus risen to the considerable personal challenge (he and Jessie have a past that I cried for three days straight back in Sacral month to draft-out...shhhhh...) of coming back into town in order to be the steady guardian influence she needs.
In the same eight days of keeping my own counsel, there was a three or four day window in which I didn't have a working power cord for my laptop. J was kind (and kind of INSISTENT) enough to let me have his personal machine during his working hours. The first day I managed to record (as opposed to write) three and a half paragraphs. That's how much I struggled to get back in synch with a mouse and also the fact that the keyboard doesn't work very well and J thus has a second keyboard he uses precariously balanced against the first. The second day I did better. The third day I pretty much typed at will/ability level given the over-arching life circumstances. My sense of accomplishment was calibrated against the fact I was aware, even as I was writing, that I wasn't actually working so much as taking myself along a compulsive jug handle of irrelevant happenstance and dialogue serving neither expository nor inter-layering purpose. I guess it was a comfort to me. To know most of these characters so well that I could spend a day doing that and thus coming closer to mooring myself in ways that support coming both farther and closer, perceptually, in a further "way" of some sort that's pragmatically as well as creatively driven. And in direct relation to knowing what is true for and about me.
A 2 hours old selfie. In the present tense I'm squinting with a bowed head because the strong sunlight's shining right in my eyes. It feels great.
Also: huge upgrade in the pragmatic sense. During yesterday's snowstorm J. installed a second hand railing in the studio stairwell. I can now walk up and down holding on with both hands. This is a HUGE blessing given ongoing neuro-unreliability that's largely weather driven in terms of severity and duration.