Posts Tagged ‘fall’

Turn On The Heat

November 3, 2017

It’s cold out there.

The rains are coming.

It’s November.

Hello.

The chill in the air, with the almost full moon rising, was spooky and intense, bright and crisp, fall is here, winter is coming.

I hopefully will be getting a car soon, as I noted that there is rain in the near forecast.

I don’t have the time to do it before the rains start and I have some homework yet to do, but I’m pretty decided and as soon as I have the down time I will be getting my butt to a dealership in the East Bay.

Soon.

Not soon enough to save me from some more cold scooter rides home, or wet rides home.

I am still debating riding in to work tomorrow on my scooter, even though there is some rain in the forecast–it’s off and on and not 100% rain all day.

There are windows of time when it’s not raining and they both fall around when I would be going into work and when I’d be coming home.

I get to come home early tomorrow, both of my clients cancelled and instead of trying to squeeze in a consult, like I did tonight when my client cancelled, I decided to take the night off and just come home.

Take a hot shower.

Wash the week off of me.

Cook myself a nice dinner.

Be cozy.

Reflect on my life and the last six months.

My God.

The last six months.

So much love.

So much change.

Some quiet and private.

Some big and public.

Lots of internal change.

Loads.

And just extraordinary amounts of gratitude for where I am in my life and the people I get to spend time with.

I am so lucky.

If the rain stays away and the cloud cover is not to bad, it might be a great night to go down to the beach for the full moon.

It will be full at midnight tomorrow, but I suspect that it will look full when it rises, I thought it was full tonight as it was coming up.

I had to check online to see when it was complete.

Tomorrow.

Midnight.

The witching hour.

Magic.

Love.

The ocean.

Dancing on the beach.

Wrapping myself up in love.

The full moon reminding me of you.

Of promise.

Of joy.

Of laughter that falls from my mouth.

How sustained I am and how loved.

My life is extraordinary, even when I am tired, like I was today and a little bit in H.A.L.T.

Hungry.

Angry.

Lonely.

Tired.

I was hungry since I didn’t have the best lunch, not a bad lunch, no not at all, just not the lunch I’d planned, as the container that my chicken soup was in broke in my scooter basket and I had chicken soup all over my school books, shoes, and paperwork.

Sigh.

Tired.

As I went to bed late.

Not horribly late, just later than normal and up a little earlier to help the mom out at work by coming in a half hour early.

Lonely.

Well.

Sometimes a girl gets lonely.

I was listening to Coleman Hawkins today, late afternoon, at work, the mom had all the kids and I was at the house waiting for an important delivery and doing food prep and cleaning and household stuff.

The music moved me.

The view moved me.

I danced by myself.

Dreamy and slow, folding the laundry, looking out the window towards downtown San Francisco, dreaming of being in another’s arms.

Angry.

Well.

It passed.

But it was there for a little bit.

I got boonswoggled into a playdate/babysitting gig, without compensation.

I felt manipulated, annoyed, angry, pissed off, victimized and aware that, in the passive aggressive text, I had been played.

Or so it felt.

And I knew that I was tired and I knew that I was lonely and I knew that I was hungry, so I prayed and asked for it to be removed and I asked myself what my fear was, and I asked if I needed to manipulate through withholding my honest response, and I asked myself to see the situation with perspective and wait for clarification before getting more pissed off.

Which I’m very happy for.

I also had a snack.

Which fucking helped.

And I took some ibuprofen, too much carrying the baby this week in the carrier, which is how I started out my day, so I was a bit sore and tender all day too, which helped.

Then I had a talk with the mom and we divided and conquered and, yes, I will, in a way be baby sitting–I’m just going to call it an extended play date, but it is for a charge I have already had, who I love so dearly that I am more than happy to help and that the mom is taking two of her three kids, so that I will just have two to take care of, instead of the four I thought I was going to be saddled with, and it doesn’t happen til next Wednesday and fuck if I’m going to be upset about it and carry it forward.

Thank God for spot check inventory.

Also.

Thank God for getting home and making myself a nice hot meal, pan-fried Japanese sweet potato with garlic and pulled meat from a roasted chicken with melted butter.

That along with turning up the heat in my studio and realizing it’s Friday tomorrow and I have wonderful plans for it and I’ll get a paycheck and my health insurance stipend and really, there are no problems.

None.

Just love.

Abundance.

Perspective.

Joy.

And the nearly, almost, not quite, but soon to be.

Full moon.

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You Are Seasonal

September 22, 2017

Not just one season.

Not just the brightness of summer.

The thunderstorms.

The heat.

The lushness.

Yes.

You are all these things.

And.

You are also in the whisperings of fall.

The coolness of your cheekbones

How the falling light glances off

Their planes and there.

A light flares inside me.

A bonfire of longing.

I smell you in this season too.

I sense you in the softening sweetness

Of things ripe and full.

I ripen thinking about that.

Your euphoric smell.

The plushness of your mouth.

An apple cider song.

I suspect I shall see you in all seasons.

All hours.

All days.

How I wish to see what winter light looks like

Upon you.

A snowflake soft explosion such as one cannot imagine.

Bonny boy.

And.

Oh.

Burgeoning spring.

I see you there too.

But it is right now.

In.

This moment.

This cooling of air,

That calls to me.

I wish to hold your hand and kick through

Fallen leaves with you.

To tussle to the ground.

To see your smile, your eyes alight.

I imagine your face framed in golds,

Burnished reds.

Burnt oranges.

Flaming yellows.

Richest browns.

No beauty that surpasses

The handsomeness of your face.

Only a frame to outline its glory.

Another picture I shall hang.

In the gallery.

Of.

My.

Heart.

Fleece Lined Tights

September 22, 2016

And falling into Fall.

It’s autumn.

Hello my favorite season.

Though it’s not the same as where I grew up in Wisconsin, the changing light does signal to me the season is upon us.

The crisp cutting of the wind, the smell of the few deciduous trees in the neighborhood turning their green to gold, red, yellow.

The smell of beach bonfires.

A shift, a tilt of the earth.

An owl overhead.

A barn owl.

A white barn owl hovering above me, my heart beat against my chest.

Was I really seeing this?

Its wings a blur of silent fluttering as it shifted in the blanket of air moving over the dune then it dropped.

So fast.

A blur.

I ducked my head.

I literally thought the bird was diving at my head.

I have had birds swoop me for my hair.

It is not the most pleasant experience, just let me tell you, although my best friend in Wisconsin thought it hilarious when we were walking in Olbrich Gardens and swallows kept swooping into pluck at my head.

The owl was coming for me, I know that, I can see it, it was a sign.

Yeah.

Like that.

I believe in signs.

Is it odd?

Or is it God?

I sent a message to a friend of mine that I had gotten to reconnect with out at Burning Man and I told him the story of what was happening in my life and the owl in the dunes last night.

He’s a shaman and his animal is, yes, an owl.

Although not a barn owl.

Here is a decent link to some of the spiritual significance of a barn owl.

And I mention that it was a barn owl, as I have seen a Great Horned once riding my bicycle through Golden Gate park, but never a barn owl, never so freaking close, never silent and there and hovering over me.

Whew.

It was intense.

I felt like a ghost had walked on my grave.

I instantly thought of death.

And death not of myself, but of another, then I realized, no, not death, change, extraordinary change, wild change, a deep knowing that the world is about to become something else, a gigantic shift in my perspective.

I came home and cried a lot last night.

I was cold in my feet.

My hands were cold.

I wrapped myself deeply in my blankets, my heart sore.

Tender.

Vulnerable.

In these moments.

A small knowing opening.

A change creeping in the open back door with the cold wind of fall.

What is working?

What is not working?

I wrote a lot of inventory last night, stashed the blog I had been working on, posted a part of it earlier today, it was incomplete, but complete at that.

I got up early, then went back to bed.

I fell asleep, as the cool morning grey light was sliding in the cracks between the bamboo blinds on the back door, silvery and shined with the coming of day.

I did not get up and go to yoga.

I got up, instead, and read some of my readers and knelt by my bed, I prayed.

Earnest and with longing and with a much lighter heart than when I went to bed.

I washed my sheets and made my bed a new.

I started fresh.

I showered.

I made breakfast, persimmons, another sign of fall, and apple in my oatmeal, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt.

Hot fresh coffee.

Writing, my morning pages.

Then.

A message to my friend, the one who has an owl on his business card.

I told him the situation.

I told him what was on my heart.

He told me the owl had come for me.

Yes.

I felt that.

That it was a deep knowing, to look inside.

He suggested some inventory and that I share it with the clearest person I knew in recovery.

I did that last night.

Guess who I talked to shortly thereafter on the phone?

Yeah.

Like that.

I got some great guidance and a wonderful suggestion.

And I took it.

Strong signatures of barn owl symbolism are abundant creativity as well as fantastic capacity to produce well beyond what others may do. This productivity will not always be visible either since the barn owl hunts primarily at night when others are sleeping. The barn owl is monogamous which speaks of a steady commitment to what you are producing in the world.

Oh yes, that too.

I am here to produce for the world.

Through my writing, through my connections to my community, through school, through love and how I just move through this life.

I feel really blessed to have the experience.

And I don’t have judgement or scepticism about what happened, there was so much happening, that it was what I needed to see.

I needed to see it, then look inside, see what was right with the experience and what was not.

Then to get some outside perspective and to really listen to my heart.

You know what happened today.

Nothing.

And.

Everything.

Clarity.

I wrote on a pink piece of paper and folded it into a small square.

I stood by my hot pink bunny bank from Paris.

I stroked his nose and whispered a prayer.

I looked up and saw the photograph of my mother and father one Christmas long, long ago, 1973? And saw in that dark hair and in those dark eyes a kind of sweet soft mystery and a deep love.

Good bye father.

Good bye to all those old fantasies held onto like a stubborn child.

I Shepard that small girl, daddy’s girl, along with a warm hand.

Not any more my dear.

Time to grow up.

Time to sit and let the sun branch out its warm fingers on your back, a strong hand, a warm guide, and let the wind lift the curls off the back of your neck.

And when you see that last leaf fall from the beech tree.

You will know.

The kiss on the back of your neck.

And the knowledge that all along.

You just had to come back home.

Sitting on this bench.

In the slanting autumnal sunlight.

Of the spirit.

Rich.

Golden.

Blessed.

Graced.

The beat of silent wings above your  heart.

Love.

Love.

It always comes.

Right.

Back.

Here.

To you.

To me.

Always.

This.

Profound.

Love.

 


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