Posts Tagged ‘superstition’

Sweet, Soft, Surrender

June 20, 2016

I mean.

I could have struggled with it all today.

But.

I just gave up.

Got up.

Went the fuck to yoga.

My brain was jacked up this morning, sometimes I wonder if it ever really sleeps.

The constant plotting.

However.

I am grateful I got up.

I was thinking that I might not make it to yoga this morning or today at all, considering how late I was up last night and then, I might feel bad and bash myself for staying up late.

It didn’t happen that way at all.

Instead I just rolled over, got up, drank some iced coffee, made my bed, said the stuff, asked for the willingness to show up to the mat, the day, my noon get together and read with my lady person, and then to have a good day, to show up for my recovery, where ever and however that looked like.

And then I went to yoga.

Happy to be there, getting into it, letting my body be there, watching my thoughts drift in and out, the specious way some want to stick and have me obsess over them, and the ease with which I was able to let things go once I was in my body and in my breath.

It was a good class and some times, most times, I show up with expectations.

Today marked four months of showing up for the mat.

Not always real happy about it when I’m on my way there, but always happy when I leave.

Sometimes there is a hope for some sort of breakthrough with my body and how it moves.

But often times.

It is that I am seeking something else.

A drift in the senses and loosened in my body, the spirit enters and I am gone into this other place.

I can become a spiritual seeker of experience.

Yesterday it happened and it was during the final sitting meditation and it was mostly just being so awesomely in my body and in my person, I felt on fire, the heat in my body rising up through the palms of my hands and in my chest and heart, lifting out of me and burning bright, hot, incandescent.

Flash bombed into the present, rocketed forward, set afire and cast upon the sea to burn like a candle in a cup at low tide on a full mooned night.

Today I had a vision.

I swear I only had iced coffee before class.

Really.

Anyway.

I felt love and sensed that there was a shift, something moving in me, something changing, that I was moving forward towards this great ball of sun, this ineffable, unavoidable collision with someone.

I had the awareness of meteors streaking past.

Men and dating and relationships.

One of the comets had little black framed glasses and I remember turning in the vision for a moment, watching him streak away from me.

I realized it was here.

This thing, this love, this moment, hurtling through space and there was nothing to do, nowhere go, so big, so vast, so all encompassing this experience that I could not avoid it.

“Look up, look out, look right in front of you, it is there,” I heard this calm, centered, even and candid voice, I looked in and out and there again, the ball of sun, this gigantic star of light and fire and heat and I had nothing to do but take care of myself.

It will happen when you least expect it, when you’re not looking for it.

I realized.

I don’t have to look.

I don’t have to struggle.

It is there and all I have to do is keep doing the deal for myself and love myself and like the warm sun on my face I would arrive exactly where I was supposed to be with whomever I was supposed to be there with.

No need to worry.

No cause for anxiety.

A sweet, soft surrender, the smooth satiny nacre of the shell I found on the walk I had this afternoon at the beach, the touch of it so seductive I kept my thumb there where the rough shell had been chipped away to reveal the pearlescent core underneath, an utterance of joy on my mouth, the cold wash of the water over my feet, the wind in my curls and the sun on my face.

Nothing wrong.

All is good.

Contentment layered over me wrapped me up in downy soft feathers of light and I drifted down the beach like the curls of foam pushed by the waves.

I was bathed in light today.

Warmth.

Summer.

Sunshine.

I am brown and honey gold and slightly freckled.

And quite pink with my curly bouquet of new hair color, which would amuse me with it’s bright scintillating magenta out of the corner of my eye, stopping to wave a a little girl toddling down toward the sea with her shovel, her face a goggle with curiosity at the sight of my corona of pink curls splashing about my happy face.

I smiled.

She smiled back at me.

There was the soft goodbye, the meander down the beach, the couple holding hands and bent over gathering shells and rocks from the incoming tide.

There was the sweet missive, the opening of heart, the ending of silence, the negotiation of sunlight in my soul and letting go of a soft sorrow I had not even realized was lying on my heart.

My laughter in the back yard as I talked with my person and got some suggestions and then using them and they worked!

The remonstrances of my heart melted away and the day was new and bright.

I sat on the back porch and ate my lunch, bare feet up on the wrought iron patio chair, eyes closed, the great red fire rose of sun blossoming on the insides of my eyelids.

Just here.

Love.

Always here.

Love.

Just look up.

Look out.

Waiting for you.

Walking toward you.

Inescapable joy.

And.

Freedom.

Release from sorrow and the quiet, sure knowing that as I hurtle toward that unknown destiny, love carries me through everything I need to experience to get me to exactly where I am supposed to be.

I suppose some might call that Fate.

Or.

Superstition.

Some might argue that I have no free will.

I, rather will say.

It is just faith.

Love.

Grace.

Love.

It is just love.

Love.

Aways there.

Always that.

Always.

Love.

The Good News

April 4, 2015

I’m using my new laptop!

Man, she is sexy, sexy, sexy.

The bad news, I don’t know how the hell to access my files from my other computer.

They supposedly transferred, but I can’t find anything.  My iPhone is linked up via the Cloud, but not my old MacBook.

Although, according to the diagnostics when I tried to do the transfer again, it’s all here, somewhere on the new MacBook.

Ugh.

I was really hoping that this would be a nice smooth transfer.

I would turn it on and poof.

All things my way.

I really wanted to be mad, I mean, fuck me, I paid $1200 for this new gadget, let’s have it working like a pro.

I can say this much, it feels good, I think I am going to be typing faster on this machine than on my other one, I don’t have to hit the keys quite as hard to have a successful key strike.

My fingers feel like they are sort of floating over the keys.

That is lovely.

So too was opening my box of Mac last night when I got home from my evening out.

Aside, screw you Good Friday, you totally threw a monkey wrench in my evening, I had plans, and they didn’t include mulling around Church and Market for an hour after work only to find out that it is a church holiday.

I would have known that last week, but I didn’t go to my usually spot as I was at the doctor’s office.

ARGH.

Then to come home and see that my computer had finally transferred everything, but that it hadn’t, well, I was just a tiny bit miffed.

Miffed I tell you.

In tears of frustration.

Annoyed.

Still am.

But, as some one as told me before, white girl problems.

Starbucks doesn’t carry my favorite tea anymore.

White Girl Problems.

My hair dresser’s new assistant lost my appointment and I had to re-book.

White Girl Problems.

My new laptop isn’t working the way I think it should.

White Girl Problems.

I live in San Francisco and can’t get a date to save my life.

White Girl Problems.

Maybe I should re-title my blog.

Ah.

Friday.

At least it’s Friday.

End of the week and I know that everything is going to be just fine.

I mean, I may have to take my new laptop down to the Genius Bar tomorrow and see where my mysterious files are hiding.

Hell, I probably don’t even have to go to the Genius Bar, I paid for 3 years of Applecare, I can just make a phone call tomorrow and get some help, I’m sure it’s something I can be directed to do over the phone.  No need to go downtown if I can avoid it.

Mostly I want my photographs, over 10,000 to be assessable to me as well as my iTunes, I mean I have a lot of music on my old computer, plus some other applications that I like to use like Word for Mac.  I don’t care for the iWork’s that are all ready a part of my package.

This is a tidy little thing, I have to say.

I am loving how this feels to type on.

It reminds me of when I splurge and buy myself Clair Fontaine notebooks, the creamy texture of the paper, the way the ink flows from my pen onto the paper.

I suspect that if I walk away and give things a little time to suss themselves out, they will.

I may need fresh eyes to see what the issue is.

Or that there really is no issue.

Or that my vintage, antique, old as the hills laptop has some quirky thing going on with it.

Who knows.

If I lose all the things on my old laptop I’m also not too worried, I have it all backed up on Crash Plan.

I just had a thought, who is this woman?

It’s nice to be a part of the technology age.

Sometimes I find it a challenge, I over think things and make them too complicated, when they are spelled out right in front of my face, but that’s just who I am.

That I get to live in San Francisco, still, I know so many people who have moved and become Oaklandish, good on you, get your house, cheap rent, Lake Merrit Farmer’s Market on.  I’m not jealous, I’m not, though I miss faces that I used to see on the daily in the hood; that I get to live in San Francisco, is such a deal for me.

It’s my home.

I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

I don’t want to live anywhere else.

I want to keep riding my bicycle, or my scooter, through the park and see the full moon rise over my left shoulder as I head down to the sea.

Tonight an owl flew across my path.

My first owl.

For the superstitious an owl crossing your path means that someone you know is going to die.

However, an owl is also a symbol of intuition and wisdom.

Trust my gut.

I did feel wonder when I saw it.

And I did feel a touch spooked.

The white underbelly, the pip squeak of its cry as it was hunting.

It was a Great Horned and it was not hooting to hoot, but screaming to scare its prey.

There is a difference.

Like the noise a hawk makes to startle its dinner.

It was an amazing thing to see, regardless of the superstitious nelly girl on her bicycle who’s first thought is, who do I know that’s going to die?

Because that’s where my brain goes.

However, I like the idea of trusting my intuition better.

I listen pretty well to my gut.

Things are changing and I have had a struggle or two, internally, with opening up my weekends so that I have more time, more time in my neighborhood and more time at night, to socialize, to move about to change my routine.

But I find that I am yearning for the old scene, even when it didn’t fulfill and was such a hassle for me to get around to.

Realizing this was helpful and I checked in with my person around it today when I was at the park with the boys.

And the best thing, the knowing that I can have the feelings and not act on them.

So maybe tomorrow I need to do some nice things for me, I was thinking I could explore the Haight a little, go play some pinball at Free Gold Watch after doing my deal in the morning at 7th and Irving and my coffee and reading afterward at Tart To Tart.

Or perhaps a bus ride out to the Legion of Honor and as stroll through the exhibit–The Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection is there and I like me some fashion.  I could even do a double dip and head over to the DeYoung afterward, it’s been awhile since I have roamed around the galleries there too.

Oh.

The bad news.

I forgot.

Because like “white girl problems.”

I don’t have any bad news.

Just new things to work on and learn from.

And with that I bid you adieu.

Signing off from my fabulous new MacBook Air.

xoxo


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