daily dairy diary

Dear Daily Dairy Diary,

Today I drank over 2L of plant milk. Half a liter of rice milk, one liter of spelt milk, and just under one liter of oat milk. I like how Alnatura has diversified the grain it sources for its plant milks, although I barely taste the difference between one and the other. All I really seek is the whitish liquid creaminess that soaks up my bowled cereal and makes it fun to slurp my food in rather than needing to actually chew it. Even the half kilo of Corn Flakes I ate today feels light and smooth for my digestion.

Power ceremony

• What to do with this resentment?
• FEEL IT. THEN LET IT GO.
• REVENGE IS POINTLESS. IT ONLY FEEDS A LEAKY BUCKET.
• LET ME LIVE A FULLNESS. HEADING INTO MY FEARS, FOLLOWING MY DESIRES. LETTING GO OF ATTACHMENTS TO SECURITIES. TO MY SEXUAL IDENTITY. TO MY FINANCIAL IDENTITY. TO MY RESIDENTIAL IDENTITY AND SECURITY.
• What of the pains of my ancestors? Who made this body through the generations?
• FEEL THE PAIN. AND THEN LIVE. DETACH FROM THE PAST. IT DOES YOU NO WELL.
• LET GO OF ANY BONDS YOU KEEP WITH THE WORLD OUT OF FEAR. IF ANY REMAIN, MAY THEY BE FROM LOVE. DISCERN FEAR FROM LOVE. FEEL THE PAIN, THEN LIVE. LET GO OF BONDS WITH US OUT OF FEAR. WE ARE FREE AND SO ARE YOU...
• Mother, what of your repression, and the pain you lived?
• FEEL THE PAIN AND LIVE. LET US LIVE OUR LIVES IN FREEDOM.
• Dad, what of your sexual shame?
• FEEL THROUGH THE FEAR AND LIVE. HIS FEARS ARE HIS OWN. JUST LIVE.

shell

The Underworld

There I found a shell

made up of the shoulds in me, for me,

I had not noticed yet

A mixture of the need to have meaning

and the learning that man pleases woman

that man has a woman

matches to a woman

Disney stories

That woman is attracted to man

That that's what is worthy in a man

They Poxipol'd together into a thick

smooth shell

that did not let me move in or into

the space of

"There is an opportunity to connect with a woman and I do not take it".

It was a strong, focused urge

that pulled me to an attractive woman

irresistibly

like the ocean moves a leaf

"must have. must take. that is my role".

"If we connect, I will satisfy and feed myself

with the squeeze of her breasts

and the soft of her skin

and the taste of her juices

with her sweet smile and her laughter

with the colors and curls that dress her

with her concave yoni shape

into which I can come into

feel invited and rejoice

and be her world and love and ecstasy

and feel worthy

for now and forever".

The reality was closer to

"I feel unworthy if I do not have you.

More specifically, if you do not want me

the way I want you to want me

with need, with thirst.

I want you to fall irresistibly into me

so I can have you forever

and never feel unworthy again

and never feel lonely, unfit

unbelonging again".

Because by myself I felt incomplete

unworthy

un-developed

un-deserving of this healthy male body

that COULD give so much love and pleasure

and didn't find a vessel.

Just a story. In truth,

I don't need to please woman.

It is not my Life-given purpose.

I don't need to want woman.

Such a need is a noose around my neck.

My sexual and romantic attractions remain true

and I am not an unworthy loser if they are not fulfilled

and I am not a worthy winner stud if they are fulfilled

I remain me.

The outcome means and proves nothing about me.

There is no proof.

There is no test.

No castle we build makes us win the sandbox.

Sandbox it continues

and its sand keeps flowing

Before us

through us

after us

after our joys and our expectations and our disappointments

we merely are

and play

ISTA L2 Malta - Nov 29th 2020

I notice it is not the naked female bodies themselves that a part of me still craves. It is their admiration, their approval. As if I do not trust myself, or my masculine self, enough to fulfill this thirst.

Trust.

Trust of being enough. Worthy.

I am here, present, and truthful. May that fulfill my self.

split

She sat in front of me, the orgasmic woman

She was to penetrate my energetic heart yoni

With her energetic heart lingam

At a distance

I opened my chest and assented

She knew what I meant and she thrust

Gently

While our eyes connected

I followed her rhythm

Forth, then back, imaging the friction

Our energies generated

With this subtle sex

The friction made heat

And flow through my body

I felt its strength rise

As some of my mind thought still

What was the use

Of this charade

Her throat lingam joined in with my throat yoni

And our ajna sexes as well

The thrusting kept going

My body followed, attuned

My breath rising

No effort from my side

My being rode the wave

Sobs bubbled from my chest

Unreasoned, unmeant

Each push grew my charge

Each pull let more bubbles out

My throat opened up for the sobs

Like an old creaking chest

Felt the shame of graceless expression

Shame became croaking groans

And was flushed out as well

Thrust

After thrust

After thrust

Thoughts unneeded, unable

My being rode the wave

And I held on to her rhythm and to her sexes

Panting raw

Like the lover surrendered to her mate

It wasn't pleasure that moved me

I felt it a need

A "please keep going, don't stop"

To release what was stuck

That crusty slime

To feel fully again

Ride me all the way

My cries were cathartic

Wails and screams raw

Midway between pleasure and grief

They asked us to disconnect

Instantly I looked at her and pleaded

don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop please please please don't stop don't stop don't stop

Caught in subconscious rapture

She assented and bore with me

Kept thrusting into me

I squeezed out every drop of her

Even as we slowed down

Even as we swayed to pause

My jaw trembled, my tearful eyes pleaded

slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow please please slow slow slow slow slow slow slow

And she said

I'm here. I'm here.

As she held me in her eyes

And I felt my loose sobs bubbling still

My channels raced with energy

Full of heat

And vibrations of release

Minutes later, I took them out

My hands close to my chest, pulled out her sex

My hands close to my throat, pulled out her sex

My hands close to my forehead, pulled out her sex

And I cried and cried, certain of having just felt loved

Deeply

And feeling the soft abandonment that I allowed

I skipped the next exercise, I was not one to follow

Walked out of the room with my hoodie around me

Found a corner next to a window and table

And I cried

And cried

And cried and cried and cried and cried and wailed and cried and cried and groaned and yelled and grieved with the emotional tool and shook my body and cried and cried and cried with the sorrow I gathered during years unfelt

When my heart was ignored

In favor of logic and reason

Even when they trampled

On my tender preferences

I barely knew I had

The last cries brought spit out

And it tasted like venom

Some toxic matter brought out of my body

I knew I did not want to swallow back

I spit on a towel

I spit on the ground

I spit in the toilet

I spit all I could

Out out out

So much I wanted a bucket

So I entered the temple once more

To find a bucket

Another she found me and gave me a bucket

Invited me to the next ceremony

I agreed

In this one I journeyed back to my pre-life

And created a journey of love

Conscious birth, conscious growth

Conscious guidance, loving care

Truth and trust, presence shown

As sometimes I spit

We were asked to feel our hands

And to feel which one was the feminine

One

My awareness moved clearly to my left

A sweet sensitivity in it

I felt into

It spread onto my thorax

My hip, my leg, my sex

My entire left hemibody embraced its softness

And at once, my being was split

Into her and him

One tender, one straight

One flowing, one still

My left hand inched closer

To my right stoic hand

She danced in curved paths

And spread tempting fingers

He noticed, came closer

Yet stood his watchful ground

He knew she enjoyed it

He knew there was time

She came to his borders

He eagerly grasped

Her sweet, tender fingers

With power and demand

He pressed her middle knuckle

And her small bone felt hurt

He was going to merely ignore it

As it was not a major hurt

Then he remembered that was the pattern

That was ignored for so long

And he paused their dance, and held her

With a loving finger kiss

His tip massaged her knuckle

And suddenly I felt

Her emotions collapsing

Into sorrow and tenderness and gratitude

That remembered when she was ignored

That felt the true love he now offered

That knew he was listening

To her soft cries of hurt

He was listening

And that was

Sorrowful bliss

They spent an hour conversing

In a cozy red cocoon

Minutes of listening to each other's energies

Apologies, sorrows, gratitude, holding each other

He covered her with his body, and caressed her skin

Her energies, still tender and fearful

Her words, he listened to in stillness

The same sweetness a man has for her beloved

Yet purer, clearer

Their energy flows direct

He and she both reassured

Themselves and each other

They would listen and speak up

Her desires he will attend to

His ideas she will heed

Neither owns the path, they share it

Driver and navigator

On a lifelong joyride

She likes sways

He likes jumps

She likes caresses

He likes presses

She likes deep sensation

He likes deep insight

She likes feeling here

He likes knowing this

They love one another

And are now learning to dance

Together

Silver web plumbing

From intuition

To idea

To desire

To action

Runs the silver thread we continuously weave

We have grown tall enough to reach novel treasures in the subtle

And to bring them down to earth

These treasures have helped us grow

Thrive

Flourish in phenomenal abundance

We have learned to worship these treasures

And build more and more of them,

And to build them temples, altars, within and without us

Everywhere we expand

Yet unaware growth can harm the web

Cancer is merely growth left unaware

And wears our forest down

We the nanomachines of a visible grey goo

Awareness, energy leaks somewhere in the pathway

From the subtle to the earth

My person notices leaks in our emotions

Cracks and gaps and blockages and bursts

Patched with uneven scotch tape and held together with rotting strings

Old buckets collecting the leaking fluid

Even a drain built underneath them

To not think about it anymore

Laying sizeable energy to waste

Draining our cycling bloodflow

We leave them in the basement

Behind that old unused door we probably misplaced the key to

The path down there smelly, slippery, and riddled with cobwebs

We don't like to go down there

Because it's icky and smelly and slimy and pests have moved in

And we'd really rather not

See the unfinished business we left down there

Because it can hurt

To see those unwanted innards

And remember when they were damaged by other flows

And we did not know how to fix them and take care of them

When we were told to never go down there because it's

Scary or unnecessary or just too noisy

And we also, like our formers,

Learned to hide the door and misplace the key

So we do what we can and we move on

If the energy loss is 70%, perhaps we can just increase the flow by about 3x and we can still be fine

Unquenchable greed

Or zeal

Or maybe we can just patch the flow from mind to earth directly

And live in sterile dispassion

The logical bypass

That discards the fluff of the unseen

Of the unproven, the unmeasured

Or we pay someone sometimes to

Guide us to empty the buckets and patch the pipes and unclog the drain

And the flow gets a little better

Yet only we have our own instruction manual

Untranslatable

That can heal our channels

Feel each leak and trace it

Test each valve, clean it, calibrate it

Properly weld or replace each pipe

Scrub our moldy walls

Untie those strings, unstick that tape, and remove those buckets

That are now in the way

Of our pipeline's unique healthy flow

Yes, it takes time and energy

As it does to learn the how and habit to maintain a car engine

But a well-maintained car may drive well a century

While one unwittingly used may break down months later when

It ran out of the oil we didn't know it needed

Although yay for electric cars

If we do not clean

We do what we can and we move on

Ignoring the refined potential we embody

That offers us a rainbow spectrum of feelings

To know our true desires and to feel the slightest

And the softest

And the loudest

Of the emotions in us

And around us

And if we ignore them, we do not feel the pain in us

And we do not feel the pain around us

Of the old man, lonely walking on the street

His yells and disdains a convenient release of his own blockages

His unresolved pains tightly shut until the end

Of the tired corporate worker

Grinding in habitual momentum

In constant friction against his own desires

He does not trust or does not remember anymore

Of the pleasant wife and mother

Who stores her miscarriages in an old trunk, leaking with pain

Her adventurous dreams eternally pawned for a normalized life

Who seals the door of her fresh sexual desires

With the key of obligate monogamy and the wallpaper of shame

Of the self-sufficient male

Unwilling to recognize the gagged feminine within him

Who wants to be loved tenderly, taken care of, to share her tears and her pains

Her diva and her beauty

And we may then continue to

Flow and live in willing oblivion

Unaware of the leaking energy

Of our fresh desires

Of the gifts our pains offer

Of the dancefloor we have cluttered up

With sloppily accepted routines

Long now stale and unrevised

That continue to grow rampant

And reproduce, together with the unawareness and with the shame

And locks

Inherited

Accepted

Or if we find in us

The will to clean us

To know us

Fully

Truly

We may yet reconstitute the pipes

That flow through our beings

Redirect our energies to heal the pains

To feel our love

To share our love

To find our truth

And to continue exploring

This world, both the dense and the subtle

With awareness and curiosity

And with joy as we share

It

teeter-totter

When the bulk of habits or society tilts unbalancedly in some direction, an unknowing newcomer will tend to lean on that direction as well, and adds to the unbalanced weight. If a minority notices this imbalance, it may attempt to bring balance by tilting, sometimes forcefully, in the opposite direction. If this succeeds, the change can be abrupt, destructive, and the imbalance will have only shifted its direction.

One who notices this pattern of teeter-totter, and who recognizes the balance in between, can choose to be and to remain in it with presence. By fortune, truth and presence are weightless.

tree

As the tree gathers air and moisture with its leaves, collects nutrients and water from the earth with its roots, and joins them together in ritual of creation fueled and blessed by sunlight energy, to feed, to grow, and to offer its gifts to the world,

so does the human gather thoughts and emotions with its senses, collect materials from the earth with its hands and body, and join them together in ritual of creation fueled and blessed by spirit energy, to feed, to learn, to develop, and to offer its gifts to the world.

sacred spot sights

We are human.

We help each other.

        present eyes, meeting.

Zoom into and fly overhead of what I will. landscapes of mountains and clouds in the background made out of inner light and dark, flying between tuscan brick columns and frames, a city made of mushroom-like tall structures.

a face moving leftward, clicking and changing frame by frame, gradually becomes donned with native american clothes and factions, becomes Pocahontas. She runs along my vision until she finds a torrent of people running in the opposite direction, a stampede. She continues running in her direction, leftward, finding her way through the opposing current of peoples.

A woman's left shoulder with three black butterflies tattooed on it, and some white residue streaked near to and on top of the tattoo. Her face is round, dark hair, goth-looking, somewhat.

Sabrina's eyes. Slightly tilted downward and to her right.

[post Sacred Spot]

politer

I sometimes act politer than I truly mean, not for fear of the other feeling offense, but for the fear that them perceiving that my words are meant as an offense or as an aggression would hurt my feelings.

Light of choice

There is a true difference between letting something go and pretending it's not there. The difference is choice. Letting something go means that we had the thing, and then we took the choice to allow it to escape our grasp. The choice is crucial. Pretending something is not there evades the choice. It looks the other way, or covers it up with a layer of excuse or of fantasy or of oblivion, forgetfulness. We may stop looking at it, we may stop noticing, realizing, then even remembering that it is there. But it is there. It remains there. The potential of choice remains, covered or obscured by the same self that was unwilling to face the newborn dilemma. And it will continue there, taking up space, obscuring that part of ourselves, cluttering up the space of possibilities that we could otherwise dance with. And we often dare not face in that direction, or take that cover off, or turn the light on, or else we'll face that dilemma we were so afraid of or unconscious of that we chose to escape it.

As one gathers many and more of these hidden dilemmas, unresolved situations, one actually becomes disempowered from dancing in one's own space because the dance floor is cluttered with signs and territories of "do not step" or "prohibited entry" or "caution - Poison", or "danger - social ostracism ahead", or "DO NOT TURN LIGHT ON".

puppy

Proprioception

Watcher on the hill

Each shadow asks to be seen

I see you, puppy

Lying in the dark

Believed itself to be lost

abandoned

and cries out for help

to be seen

I see you, my child

My boy that thinks women will not like him

I see you

My puppy that thinks he is too big and clumsy to play with others

and women will be hurt by you

I see you

And hug you

My boy that wishes to excel and be the best,

and to be seen and known as skillful and useful

and even as outstanding at times

I see you, my boy

And acknowledge your want

I see your excels and strives and stunts and wonders

I see you, my sharp fire lightning bolt

I feel you through me and

I love you

responsibility

responsibility is not an obligation

it is not a role

it is not a need

it is not an urge

it is not a bind

it is not a chain

it is not a debt

it is not a duty

it is not a commitment

it is the ability to respond

an ability. that allows possibility

for us

when we observe

a thing. an event. a lack. an excess. a need.

and we know how to change it

shape it

in a way we choose to

responsibility is

the ability to do so

because we know how

because we are able

and with this power

we

can

choose to respond

struggle

there is no war

it is a struggle of ourselves

onto ourselves

to stretch and push out and break through the layers around us

between us

the protective layers we have built for so long

and that are quickly

turning obsolete

let there be no war

within

so there may be no victor

and no vanquished

just us

Self times

Audio

Hmm. Self-times. 

Hmm. A self-time to me is. 

A time we preserve for the self. 

The world of needs and the world of the physical. 

And pull us. 

To survive. 

Pull us. To find. 

Sustenance. Direction. Purpose. Meaning. 

This is a world where. Our habits. Pull onto us. From many directions. 

Towards work. Towards. 

The bus that we can barely just catch at the bus stop. 

Hmm. Towards that girl. 

That somehow. Sweetens my eyes. And I. Chase home. I chase along. As if she were butterfly. 

Hmm. 

The avoidance.

Of what we fear. 

Hmm the repulsion the physical danger. 

All these ropes. 

Hmm. 

The meeting of schedules. 

Communication with others. 

Synchronization in society. 

Social fences. Around our behaviors. 

These ropes all pull pull pull one way or the other or the other or the other or the other.

Hmm. 

It. Sometimes get to the point. Where we are lost without these ropes. 

And where for a moment. Feeling how. All the ropes have loosened. In this particular wave. 

There is no tension. There is no direction. 

And we feel lost. 

When in fact what we

Feel. Is freedom of choice. 

Hmm. 

As with anything we don't know. It takes time to learn to use. 

To understand that. 

Hmm. 

When ropes are taut. They pull us crisply. And our direction is set. 

Hmm. When multiple ropes are taut. 

We may be in conflict. 

Between one direction and another. 

Hmm. 

Self-time. 

Self-time is a time that we gift to ourself. 

When we know. And we take care. That our ropes are loosened. Are softened. 

Are soothed. 

With our unending trust. 

Hmm. 

When we. Create. This space. This time. 

This bucket of existence. 

And we know. That our ropes are loosened. 

Hmm. 

Then the self. 

Can. Take time to feel. 

Can take time to move. From its core. 

Not from the outside. Habits patterns reactions. We have gathered in our lives. In this person. 

But from the essence. 

Where the oven of creation. 

Is. 

It waits. 

For us to notice it's there. 

Hmm. 

In these times self-times. 

Hmm. Our self has space to dance. 

To choose. To be. 

Truly. 

Hmm. 

Continuously. Unabruptly. 

Self-guided. 

Hmm. Like a delicate sapling. 

Hmm. 

It starts small. 

Soft. Pliable. 

Hmmm. When we give it. Space to dance. Space to play. Space to grow. 

Hmm. 

So grows. The self. 

Hmm. So grows. Its true direction. 

Hmmm. 

And when grown

As it grows

We can see. Who we truly are. 

As it blooms and grows into this world. 

Self-time. 

Hmm. Let us. 

Gift. Ourselves. 

Hmm. 

Moments of self-time. 

Hmm. 

They allow us. 

To grow. 

Mear

Dear Mear,

When I remember I am here,

and freel what is near,

the path is now clear,

so clear it disappears

in absolute here

and I am the seer

all else is mere wind.

Feel home in the

depth of your breath.

warm, thick, and sparkling

being

feeling

true

jelly

get to know the janitors of your subconscious

they know very many things about the

quirks and leaks and engines and lens and rudders

that reside in us

power us

guide us

sometimes itch

and sometimes spill

sometimes squeak

and sometimes screech

sometimes hurt

and sometimes roar

sometimes flow

no manual, but many

inside of us know us

let's go and be friendly

they're skillful and true

they'll share their own know-how with you.

a dynamic jelly

this sensational ship

each dust speck ripples into mounds

hills

each forgotten cut invokes protection

force fields and detours, armed guards

when we help clean

when we help heal

shower in with light

with care

jelly can soft grow anew

flavor

each glimpse of an input

can be my star to follow

my villain

my ground

or just

another flavor

inner space

a loud shout a release of steam

pressure that builds up with nowhere to go

a boiler

a cry an overflowing

of within emotional waves

spurred higher by the tides and winds that move us

shift us

to fly in our spaces, we must feel the wind

and learn how to dance with

its gusts and its flows

its eddies and swirls

whirls

slide back down through the layers

that build up our cake

a soft joy when I notice

that here I can breathe

here I can feel

quiiet from the surface currents, closer

to the core of our being

both denser and softer

the lower we slide

sink

here all of that think

is blowing far above

in dances of its own

just fall

delight in the warmth of your being

my being

I

who watches and feels

it

depths

an ice cream of sensations

of which we choose to partake

flavors are many

MANY

and their combinations way more

the sound of the distant leafblower

as my bare belly squeezes the bed

my calf muscles' contraction

as I twist my foot to the left

faucet running water

behind me, it soothes

the blood in my head pumps with fuzzy, self-rhythm.

on my jaw. on my forehead.

the shape of my body as I slide on the floor

and with a knowing right arm, close the door

fulfillment when music from next door is removed

its words ask mind to point somewhere and I gently refuse

this cocktail of signals

through this body of mine

are fountains of ice cream

for me to lick as I choose

I, tongue, sense the samples

my curious child wishes

and play, in this process, is all it will do

and play, in this process, is all it will do

the colors there, outward, light blue from the sky

it subtly rinses my visual canal

combine it with white clouds and curtains of green

and here is unique ice cream

never before seen

tasted

feel the fullness of this body

proprioception

its innards stretch and squiggle

a robust package of fragiles

channels perception to this me.

a warm base of digestion

thank you belly

a deep piping of breath, its subtle sound sigh,

the capacity, and tautness of our devoted lungs

a sense of balance

and domes of air waves made music by our ears

two instant periscopes

turning light into majesties

thank you eyes

taste a flavor

invite it

feel it

dance in you

all real

it is all real

and it is all here

every tiniest speck of it

every shaky hesitation

every lightest, strangest mood

emoted

the tiny jerk of the elbow

interpretation

of these

their connection to meanings

the unreasonable arguments

the motives for violence

the motives for peace

the shames we avoid

the fears that fence us

it is on the surface

here

or in layers below

here

or deeper

here

those ropes of must or should

that seem to pull

away from here

also real. habits

sometimes floated on the surface

with little depth

find its depths

freedive

to feel the habits

the behaviors and their roots

do they feel to match that

in that rich depth of you

of I

some will be strengthened

given ground

my ground

others may be unfit

for the shape I discover

in me

and shed

dissolve into the shifting ocean

and more space to dance

is allowed

in the depths of us

we can grow our roots and stems

and then our flowers can truly

bloom

bring them light

Audio

gratitude

it shines a light upon it

upon its object

awareness soothes it

the light of our attention shines upon it, and it is honored

seen

with gratitude

we see how this state

this

has roots, causes, associations,

to which we bring light

we remember our connections

we more know what we are

if only for the attention, it helps us know

feel ourselves

brighter

yet it also extols the virtues of the object

it finds them

it greets them

they are once again

unforgotten

and we can feel their delight

when we do, we no longer aim forward,

drawn by our aims.

gratitude is of this

and through it we see ourselves

and what feeds us

and what nourishes us

we can take a rest

take our feet in our hands and thank them

knead them with love

rest our horses

we can fix our chariot

and remember that the truth is here

that delight is here

as shiny as that horizon looks

as intriguing as the far-away seems,

the feeling is here

and yes, in life we move

and life moves

we do not remain forever

but when we remember to shine gratitude upon ourselves

upon what is

the movement is within us

and treasures dwell within

our design

we are building a structure

across time and space

to see what we can

to make all of us

into form

with this moment we build

our layer of now

with each flowery curve

and jagged mistake

we shape it

with each bright joy

each damp sadness

each sacred whisper

we clothe it

we bloom and grow and explore

the Infinities of Ourselves.

we ingress into and embody the matter

we grow it along with ourselves

together we play and see

what is all that we can be

love cares

I take care of you

and you take care of me

we do not need us to

we choose to

care for each other

sharing with love

is a joy

to take care of us

of our softer, subtler parts

we open up to show them

those that tickle when seen

and that hurt with miscare

like this we can know each other

we show each other

and trust that love guides us both

weave our arms

When we weave our arms so together

my neighbors and I

so we are grapevines that build on each other

that feel and rely on each other

our sphere expands, and I care for them

as they care for me

energies

There are energies in the world

flowing, shifting

the currents of force and direction in our ocean

the messengers

permeating the planes of consciousness and intent

I don't see them.

I sometimes feel them

when I trust and I listen to the music of Now.

they sway me and my world

into a dance I unknow.

In it there are steps of fire

and leaps of faith

brilliance of sunlight

turns of surrender

meetings of souls

like two fingers that touch

or two fluids that melt

or three

There are rivers of celebration

There are baskings in beauty

Lakes of contemplation

Forests of peace

bubbles of laughter

and joyous perception

when I remember I am dancing

and my partner is Here.

Sampling

It is more the slopes, the patterns, the choices and movements

than the states we encounter

that drive the Flow of Life.

States, precise and measurable,

are dots only upon the wave.

Drops in the rainfall

Leaves in the forest.

Each one does not speak for the whole.

When we see via state sampling

Nyquist recommends frequent observation

vigilance

to know well the wave that we ride.

Yet smoother is to feel the fall and rise.

Unmeasured. Been. Embodied.

Continuous watch of the Present.

The Is.

Notice of the tobogan of sensations, emotions,

thoughts, draws, hesitations

Shapes in space.

Colors in eyes

Sounds around

Choices, causes.

Secrets, whys.

And when we step out

we can step back in.

Feel you move. Let rush go. Notice, observe breath.

See the dance.

Be the dance.

Complete Presence

The Way of Full

Being

pond

Being, feeling, is a delight.

What lies underneath the undelightful layers

is a pond, quiet.

A trust. Permeating.

Each touch and shape and memory.

Watchful. Present. Unneeding.

Each speck of sensation a gift. A color.

to garnish our banquet of Is.

The floating layers above

of wants, pains, reactions,

the undigested remnants of our experience.

Have not yet been allowed into the pond.

For fear of pollution, perhaps.

To protect from pain.

Let them in. Watch them sink. Feel their shape.

The undelight can be moved.

The undelight can be digested.

Watch. Freel. That is digestion.

And clearer waters remain.

Arillas waves

We continue to be here.

I look ahead. The waves

continue to splash on the sandy shore.

Shimmering sunlight.

Morphing the swirling patterns of salty foam.

In surrendered offering to the slope of beach.

Caressing.

Melting.

Unrelenting.

We continue to be here.

womb experience

The delight of the warm sunlight atop the gentle, soothing waves that buoy my feeling, trusting hands quiet, limp, observant.

Antonio

in the water, she leaves me my head back, my body slanted back No air, I trust. She takes care of me. Time passes, I remain under. I know she knows. I know she takes care of me. Time passes, I remain under. My belly hiccups, it asks for air. I wait. She takes care of me. Time passes. I know she knows. I cannot breathe. Maybe she wants it. She wants me to stay in. All emotions at once. Trust betrayed. Rejection. She prefers me here. Unalive. Pride to cover my hurt. Let it be so. I stay here. It is good anyway. Deep. Quiet. Just me and I don't need you. I stay here. I don't need to breathe. She pulls me up. There I can breathe. No. No! You didn't want me breathing, so I stay in. Let me stay in! I don't need you. I pull down. I want to stay inside. No! You don't want me breathing, let me stay in! She pulls me out, I gasp for breath. Defeat. I failed. I failed what I tried, and now I'm with someone who betrayed me. Who doesn't want me. I failed. And I cry out loud, and the comfort I reach for is hers. I curl into her arms. But she betrayed me. But she has me. I breathe again.

Antonio

She plays with me. She curls up my leg as I sit, and she makes funny noises when she does. In playful, rising tone: "Tuuuuuuuuut!" I laugh. It's so funny how she does it, I like it. She takes care of me. "Swuuuuuuuuuuuuup!", she curls my other leg. I sit cozy and happy. She likes me and I feel good. Sun, water, sounds. My body is happy.

they didn't want me, but I am good.

I am good.

Numbers

What gives numbers their particular flavor is that they are so easily comparable. They open a clear potential for maximization and for advancement that easily sparks the spirit of achievement and competitiveness in those so inclined. A thirst for increase.

Their simplicity makes them useful and widely-applicable. When we are able to describe the world around us via quantities, we can grow a sense of reliability, of repeatability, that can clarify our mental models, and allow us energy we can devote to other pursuits.

A common pitfall is adopting the belief that the world is completely quantifiable. Or rather, that our understanding, our numerical descriptions of the world are complete, or even sufficient to navigate our life. Such a belief can see a person, intentionally or not, discard the parts of the world that do not fit their models. The fluffy ruffles, the unknown tinges, the occasional glitches, or even entire swathes of our perception, like our own inner workings and psyche, are at times crumpled up and moved aside to the bucket of "I don't know/I don't care", impoverishing our experience just as much.

Light is come

A restless sleep and a restlesser wake later, it is dawn. Silver sunlight gives the world a tinge of fresh light. Colors begin to wake again. A soft white sky with tinges of light blue and golden, just out my window. They permeate air. And a bee buzzes among the bright green leaves and the soft peach flowers that frame my window. Light comes.

Eyelids droop. A re-bed seems appetizing, but uncertain, as light is come.

Light is come.

Katikia Music Farm - Aug 2nd 2020

A 2PM coffee keeps my psyche awake tonight. A shared, friendly day with Kim has me fantasizing about the two of us sleeping together. "Maybe if I had said this. Maybe if I had asked that. Maybe. Maybe." Mind throws out its fishing pole into the sea of possibilities, distant from the Now. Searches for a solution.

There is no solution. It is here and now, and I sleep alone tonight. It need not be different. It need not be fixed. Nothing to take care of.

Just Fall.

coffee

coffee this morning

at a cafe I had never entered

on a street I often walk

time with calm, no fuss

i walk back, unpacking food

i feel a sudden pull

work must be done. get to it

the body jerks small, agitated

i pause to feel what is

ahh, my rhythm is stronger

faster, quicker, it needs to do

something alerts us, so

something must be done

i see the half-stored groceries

strewn on the kitchen counter

no, time for work is not yet here

i feel my chest beats, loud.

my body feels alert

and rises energy

to survive, to do what is necessary

but there is no necessary now

coffee jerks my body, feels an agitated energy spike.

it means no intent. it comes not from will

but from physical vibrations.

interpret, then, is what i do.

emotion feels body

hotter, quicker, shaky,

it recognizes it. it is fear.

the thoughts now notice.

there is fear here

that was not here before.

if fear is here, there must be

something missing, something wrong

There's nothing different happening. Maybe... did I forget something? Am I late for something?

what's the next thing on my list?

Ah, work! Work yes, Is it too late already?

That is something that is missing

the work done for today

so I will do the work

and this is how

I'll take care of what's wrong.

thinks mind.

and pulls my body's bridle workward.

this was how my feelings were

with my coffee today

I do not need to do things.

I perceive what my senses bring me

I interpret the signals as fears

or joys, griefs

and armed with my interpreted emotions

my mind devises a plan to

keep us safe and bring us well.

we interpret

we choose.

i choose.

pay presence to what we sense

what we think

what we feel

then we can t-r-a-c-e the path, f-e-e-l

the processees within us

thhat we may know

why and how

you cry

you laugh

you hurt

you love

you lack

you thrive

you rage

you fear

you fall

inner text

Really? You're really going through with this? Another improvement program, huh? How sweet. Again to make us better?

Hey, you've seen how messed up we've been these days. No energy, no purpose, adrift and lonely,

Yeah, right, and this is gonna fix it. Like the frillion recipes and oils and mantras and healings and therapies and workshops you've gotten yourself into before.

Yeah, it's another one. And it's what we've found, why not try it ??

Fucking. waste of time. I don't see why you keep hanging your hopes on what people tell you.

Well, I don't find solutions in anything else. I'm lonely and I'm desperate and you know it.

Fucking. waste of time. My energy is not going in that direction.

Whatever. You don't have to give it energy. I can do it myself.

DUDE. You're fucking going the wrong way. Complete SURRENDER, don't you remember?

Yes, I've gone that way. My body becomes a log and my mind slimy goo. My emotions a congealed crust. I gather sweat and filth from uncare. That's not working.

Isn't that what it's about? SURRENDER? Fully. fucking. surrender.

well this girl appeared in front and with it a chance to change something. why not try it?

yeah sure. try it. It'll work just as well like the frillion times before. back to the cycle we go.

I cannot turn you off, but I can fucking hold you tight. Don't you dare oppose this fucking "healing" routine this week. We're doing it and that's it.

Sure. Yeah, go ahead. But I'll be here the whole way - you'll need to drag me past every step. See you next time you're crying your guts out from the disappointment of failure and being lost and unworthiness in life. Again.

explode

want to

feel like

explode

find nothing

to explode against

no force in conflict

cannot push against

what is not

force congeals

brakes and holds on tight

to the inside of my throat

pulls downward and inward

on its frontal sides

both of them

a drain for energy to move into

so no expression escapes

it pulls

sucks

the will inside

where it is hidden

and forgotten