Posts Tagged ‘barbaric yawp’

Day One

February 11, 2017

Down!

God it feels good to be moving through the days of my program.

I felt super good today, even with starting the day with Trauma class.

Which.

Well.

Is oft-times traumatic.

However, having done so much of my own work around trauma I feel pretty grounded and able to hold myself in the stream of information that is being shared and to share my experience, not someone else’s experience.

I have been privy to much information that is confidential over the years and many confidences of delicate nature, trauma, abuse, sexual violence, stalkers, bad jobs, violence, drug abuse, emotional abuse, troubled relationships with partners, children, spouses, parents.

I have heard so much trauma and witnessed so much that I am surprised that I am not inured.

Rather.

I am impressed.

I am a little bit awed, in fact.

By the ability of us humans to heal and grow despite, or perhaps because of the nature of the pain that has been experienced.

This is not to say that I wish for you a traumatic experience, it is rather to acknowledge that holy fuck I have done the damn work.

I have shown up.

I have held my space, my heart, I have eaten out of the palm of pain and I have lived to tell the tale and in the telling, grown, blossomed, survived, thrived.

Despite, not because of the trauma.

I am graced in the knowledge that walking through the fear is never as hard as the fear wants me to believe.

I get to do this work and I am so situated that I have been allowed to go to graduate school and pursue it and be a kind of healer in my community.

This is a blessing.

This is a gift.

A gift that carries a burden that could be hard to shoulder had I not already done so much to strengthen myself and move my own stuff out-of-the-way.

That’s not to say that I won’t come up, that it hasn’t come up, that there is not some ugliness there or terror to shed light on, there is always room for growth, for more blossoming and even when it is the dead of winter I know that the plum trees will bloom on Church street and the act of walking, my face lifted to the blossoms pressed against the night sky will carry me forward through another season of pain and growth and exquisite beauty.

I was also just happy to see my cohort.

Let’s be honest.

I missed my friends.

And.

I acknowledged to myself how important these friendships have become to me.

I feel really amazed, I wasn’t expecting that as a product of doing the grad school work, that I would have another unique set of circumstances and fellows to travel and trudge the road to happy destiny, a destiny designed to connect me further with people in community.

With love.

I love that I am seen and accepted.

Oh.

I am not always liked and I don’t always like people in my cohort, but.

I love them all.

I do.

Unconditional love.

Meaning I wish for each and every one of the people in my cohort, in my class, in my school, in my neighborhood, that same respect and love a showering of respect and a willingness to acknowledge that we all deserve to be happy, however that looks.

I don’t have to like you to love you.

I don’t have to like you to wish for you the best, whatever and however that manifests.

I am an equal opportunity lover.

Heh.

Maybe you find a love that falls across you gently like a pick pocket brushes your thigh.

This means.

That I also unconditionally love myself, even when I wonder, am I people pleasing again, am I holding my tongue because I don’t want conflict, am I acquiescing to someone else’s need?

I might be.

At least I can recognize it now and more forward with that knowledge too.

So much to learn.

So much to feel.

The good new kids, you’re going to have feelings.

The bad news?

You’re going to have feelings.

But.

The nice thing is, feelings aren’t facts and despite feeling many things, I don’t have to be held hostage to my feelings.

I can have them.

I can let them go.

I can let them move through me.

It is a gift to see the emotion, to name it, to love myself and let whatever is there, rise, float to the surface, gather light, bloom, blossom grow, then slowly wither, become a puff of dander that the next feeling breathes against it and pushes the seeds carried by small parachutes of fluff and gossamer, carrying the impetus for so many other feelings to grow, blossom, wither, and die upon the warm air of God’s breath.

A sigh of kisses.

A multitude of stars.

I can contain millions.

I do.

In fact.

So too, do you.

Extraordinary.

This.

How hard I have striven to find these small moments of metaphor, Dolly blue in the hand crank washing machine of my heart, the pain renders it all the more beautiful and I rise to the light of the full moon.

Woman.

Once more.

My own.

You may have tried to trespass.

I may have shut the door.

I may have resisted.

I have come to understand my struggle and my power.

I underestimated my strength.

My fellows see it.

They breathe it back to me in the language of love and unconditional surrender.

The is that is right now.

The being that is scoped across my heart, a light house beaming its beacon at the end of the universe.

A small flower opening.

My face to the sun.

Uplifted and held.

Tears on my face.

The water of love showering my heart.

Where all the wild things go to grow.

I sing my barbaric yawp at thee.

Sounded over the rooftop of the city.

Howled into the nether regions of love.

I gather you here, upon my breast, open hands to cradle you close.

The music of the spheres.

The resonance of light in your eyes.

Your head upon my shoulder.

Warm breath.

Human.

Together.

Moving through and above.

Beyond.

Into another realm.

Which is only this one repeated again and again as I attend to all those things that I thought were lost underneath the attic stairs where my dreams went to nestle and die.

Or so I thought.

They only slumbered.

They only dreamed.

And now.

Well.

I have them again.

And I won’t let them go.

Trauma class.

Trauma.

Trauma.

Trauma.

I meet thee there.

With.

Love.

And.

Surrender.

And.

Gentle.

Repair.

 

 

Prudence

November 1, 2015

And a prudent reserve.

A good conversation with a very smart friend.

Some soul-searching over sushi.

Oh my god.

So good.

Such good sushi.

I made sushi face all over the place.

“Don’t tell anyone about this spot!” ┬áMy friend exhorted me.

Mum’s the word.

And the realization that the discomfort I was feeling about getting a Vespa was about not having any prudent reserve left over in case of emergencies or life happening.

Thus.

I have decided to go with the Buddy from Genuine Scooters.

Unfortunately, the Italia in avocado is gone, gone, gone.

Le sigh.

However, I learned something today, after having the fantastic sushi meal my friend and I decided to hop over to Scooter Centre and see what Buddy’s they had in stock.

I looked at the 170cc’s but none of them did it at all for me and for the cost, I might as well say, wait for the money for a Vespa.

And after talking with Barry and acknowledging what my needs are, I don’t really need that much power, I’m not going to ride the scooter over the bridges.

I am going to ride it to work and to do the deal and to school.

And how handy is it that Scooter Centre is literally a block away from school?

Pretty auspicious I say.

So I looked over the 125cc’s Genuine Buddy and I liked what I saw.

First, it wasn’t as bulky as the 170cc and I liked the color choices better.

I narrowed it down to black, mint green, and this silvery grey that has some sparkle in the paint.

Did you say sparkle?

Did you say, matches my helmet with the big stars on it?

Did you say glitter?

Yeah.

So.

I’ll be getting the soft grey with shimmer and I will be getting her next Friday.

What with the money I received for writing the sonnets and the money I have in savings and the deal I’m getting, tax, title, registration, all out the door, brand new two-year warranty with road side assistance, and he threw in a disc lock for me, $3239.

I have enough!

I have enough!

I have enough!

And.

I have some prudent reserve left in my savings too.

I will transfer the money out of my account tomorrow so that it lands by Thursday.

Then, on my day off, Friday the family will be in Indianapolis for a Bar Mitzvah, I will go down to the shop with my helmet and if I can find my gloves, my gloves, and if not, I buy a new pair, I like riding with gloves, really feels so much better, and my cash in hand.

Cash.

No credit card.

No financing.

My hard-earned money.

I am over the moon.

I will be celebrating some poetry with my scooter.

Perhaps I will ride to the top of Twin Peaks and proclaim myself with a barbaric yawp of delight.

Poetic no?

I told you.

My scooter will be running on poetry, aka love.

It gets great gas mileage.

92 mpg.

Thank you very much.

Filling up the tank will be cheaper than riding the MUNI train.

Plus.

The seat flips up and has a storage area underneath for the helmet.

Now I have to contact my insurance and let them know that I will be needing motorcycle insurance again.

And that’s it.

I don’t have to go down to the DMV and register it, Scooter Centre will do all that, tax, title, registration, brand new.

This will be my first brand new vehicle ever.

Motorized that is.

My bicycle was new when I got her.

My friend even suggested I could sell my bike, but I don’t think I will, I love her too much and I may want to have her in case I need to have a day of servicing etc on the scooter.

But next Friday!

Next Friday.

I ride.

I am over the moon.

And it feels right.

It feels right to not push myself financially and try to get a new Vespa, it feels prudent to get something nice that will get me around and do me for school and get me through the next three years.

I will be able to do so much more.

I’ll be able to get to some places that I don’t get to on my bike.

I’ll have more flexibility in my schedule.

It will be a great help to me.

And it will save me time.

Time I can use for school.

I did pretty damn well with my time today as well.

I got up an hour before my alarm, I knew that was going to happen, I just wanted to get some stuff done and I knew if I got up just a tiny bit earlier I would be able to accomplish some extra things in my day.

Like a little spoiling, I got a manicure.

And a nice hot shower this morning.

And some writing.

Which reminds me, I have to pop to the store tomorrow, I need to buy a new notebook, I filled up another notebook with my morning pages.

It was my Burning Man notebook, the one that I brought with me to the event.

I looked at the stickers I got there and my ticket to the event and flipped through a few entries.

So much has happened since then, and it was just under two months ago that I was there.

Things can change so quickly.

Especially if I allow myself a little flexibility.

And some fun.

I let myself do both.

I still got in a lot of reading, in fact all the reading I need to do to write the paper I have to write tomorrow.

It’s not due until November 4th, but that’s the middle of the work week for me and I just won’t do it like that, it will feel awful and rushed and I have commitments during the week that I need to make sure to get to.

So, tomorrow I write.

For I read today.

I also made pureed cream of broccoli soup with smoked bacon and a big pot of chili for my friend.

He who hauled me all over the city and helped me negotiate for the scooter and gave me suggestions and ideas and has been a great sounding board and also let me commandeer his couch while I read for school.

Plus, I got to snuggle with a cat.

Heaven.

Reading on the couch, a pot of chili on the stove, corn bread muffins too, the sound of college football on the tv in the background, the kids in the neighborhood trick or treating and the happy knowledge of making a decision to improve the quality of my life and get something that works best for me, plus doing the deal this morning and seeing my person at Tart to Tart.

I had a damn fine day.

Damn fine.

And I even got my helmet out of the closet and dusted her off.

I’m just about ready to rock and roll on a working scooter.

Over the moon.

I am.

Just over the moon.

Which is perfect since my helmet has sparkly glitter stars on it.

Ha!


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