(no subject)
i've been busy...
work and school and volunteering and home again in the same clothes i slept in, day
after twenty-five-hour day alternating bliss and burnout with the oddly
unfolding peace between
more machine than ghost, but go far enough and one can often show you the other
i run a costume business
and study genetics
work for the exploratorium
and uc berkeley's paleontology lab
do freelance illustration
reiki for people undergoing suspension
dream and
love and
tumble
and am handing over
fifteen of the best things i can draw
three references
transcripts
and a statement
to a rather competitive graduate program
fifteen days from now.
that's april fool's day.
breathe...
i'm sorry if i've missed you and you and you somewhere in this fray... and that will change soon.
plans unravel with sand shifting just as quickly; plenty is flowing by in echoing lines of love and laughter while various gods of futility also wear shiteating smiles and patiently show me a million shadow-puppet shows on how to expect no less than the world by expecting nothing at all.
disarming my conscious will is like pulling teeth from a pit bull
throwing up my hands to humor... wading through this blur of days in exquisitecorpse footprints and feeling like flipping a coin is the best i can do short of escaping to a silent retreat or a mental ward. there is only flow, which bars questioning right now to such an extent it's impossible not to just burn all the maps, trust, and be on my way in it. internally if not yet physically; it all goes to the same. i'm remembering yet again to unbind, in spite of or because of the bindings at hand; to decode liminal beauty in bean-counting and epic adventure in the endless commuting that is life lately. this place is just as temporary as any. and while we could trade stories here i'd rather just giggle and say that bright coincidence is up all around...
a random set of driving directions blew over my feet on the way to work
as with most things we simply know what to do when the time comes
someday i will open a museum of pan-divination in an old fortune cookie factory, involving a display of antique dice carved from bone, wandering card readers, and two stately portraits of carl jung and john cage over the front desk.
i'd like to say too that i'm remembering patience, but as it's never been one of my virtues i'll admit i've simply said fuck it in many places and come at things from the opposite side, giving up on sitting still to simply reach out and pull several wispy ideas from the "future” to greet in the now... change is every day, not in some far-off moment.
i am remembering exactly how to be patient.
(trust that your medicine will always find you.)
and i prefer the snake oil strong...
recognizing architectures of self-sabatoge
and better yet reprogramming them to serve
casting a message in a bottle to the subterranean
dreaming of the fortyfifth hexagram, and lucidly remembering to ask about changing lines among the other swirl that follows right out of bed and hovers a half-step behind for most of the day...
extended theta; bar inside circle as form inside void
i know where there's a sensory-dep tank in oakland and think i'm making an appointment
fingertips like tongue to battery
and
this odd spot over my solar plexus that's bled through two different shirts
yanked hard like a kite off a string
some equally violent healing
untetherment all around...
and we only get burns by trying to grasp what is forever feeding through our hands. find the thread or lose the thread, just drop it and dance; let the ends trail in the hurricane wake behind you, feel them tangle and break to drag the sticks and mud of life along in your train of feathers and stardust. remember that you fly true at more than one thousand miles an hour, even in your sleep, by virtue of simply being on this restless earth.