Something is eating my stomach from inside.

A scratch that I cannot locate to itch.

Maybe Ill focus on the good stuff for awhile.

I can’t.

If I could just feel into it

I do.

I am addicted to hurting myself.

I am addicted to taking the god out of myself.

The meaning.

I laughed at the obvious stupidity of hurting oneself once.

And then

I was also ripped to shreds.

Being ripped to shreds changes ones focus.

And now.


I’ve had healing.

I can see that I hurt myself and in that seeing

I am more free from hurting myself.

And this seeing

and freeing from

hurting myself

leaves me with more space and time to

And there is where my newfound freedom becomes cumbersome

not that I want to complain I don’t Im grateful but

it leaves me with more space and time to

fill? Feel as empty?

I am unused

to freedom.

An assuredness a trust a

firm feeling felt of stability breathed through and truly thoroughly tested


A launching pad for flight. There. Without bitterness.

So for now I suppose I ocillate

and ask

for divine love for I deserve my own love

and I can’t seem to get it back through ordinary means.

I need some gods. And some other people.

I need my base back.

This new way of being with myself

is a whole new world

a whole other ellipse.

The New

I recently had a big breakthrough. This was an emotional-spiritual breakthrough that has proven significant for my moment to moment quality of life. I have never been this well or felt this whole.

And I hardly know what to do with myself. It’s as though a new sky, a more spacious and breathable sky, has opened in my universe. And I can fly in it. Yet, I keep grounding myself with habituated behavior.

Why? I have been asking myself why? To what end? Well, turns out I don’t know what to do with myself in this new flying state.

I have been told that with this new healing all I need to do is care for it. Be with it. Pay attention with love to it. And I am.

And I am noticing how habituated my mind is to thought patterns that are shortening. I seek out patterns of behavior, such as watching too much TV, that suffocate my new air.

I am learning, to take care of this new health and love inside of me, to breathe life into this newness. I am habituated to thoughts and behaviors that suffocate, but I am also learning how to take care of a newness.

I am writing more. That breathes life into the newness. I am taking each moment more presently even though when I do that it feels like I am moving and breathing underwater. This gives breath to the newness and allows my body to feel its unfurling within my spiritual system.

I am uncomfortable with my freedom. I do not know what to do with it or myself or how to consistently care for it. The wonderful thing though is that since I have worked for this freedom, it is not going to leave. I only have to learn how to be with it. How to love it. How to live it within my body and my awareness.

I want to respect the newnesses presence. I don’t want to ignore it less it feels disrespected. I said this freedom wouldn’t leave now that it is here. But it could leave. If I leave it out it could simply stop being. Disappear. I don’t want my freedom to feel ignored by my ignoring it.

This freedom bumps up against my edges and a depression and sense of despair and hopelessness rear up. So it is a dance, a rhythm learning to ingest this new freedom. My original wholeness that was buried. The New expands within me to my new edges and everything that ever hurt or loved inside of me gets stirred up.

Self-Care is a vehicle for me now. A vehicle to help me nurture a vulnerable wholeness. I have to Self-Care. I have to let go of bashing on myself for safety.

Goodbye self bashing. Thank you for your service. I now longer need you as the main voice. I have a new main voice that is leading the way. This new voice is support with realistic boundaries. And I have to remember this new voice. I have to heed, more and more, this new voice. I have to pay attention to what it is saying so I can understand.

Self-loathing, I understand what you say. And why. I know you well and how far I can go with you. And I let you go. Thank you for your service self-loathing. My new bodyguard is Unconditional Self-Love. Me and my new bodyguard, Unconditional Self-Love, go everywhere together. And right now there isn’t any more room for any other voice.

And I have to learn how to speak the language of my new body guard. So I will be listening closely to U.S.L from now on. I will learn. My small, soft animal body wants things. Needs things. And I am learning how to care for that so happiness will like staying with me.

Goodbye old ways. Thank you. Goodbye. I bury you into the earth to be transformed into energy that is beneficial for the greater good. I accept and gather into my heart and body and spirit and mind my new ways. My new ways of Self-Love, Compassion and reality-based boundaries. I step into my practice of practicing Love.


I smell sponge.

A sponge smell

absorbs the air around.

Sponge making the air be

what sponge is doing.

Festering. Bacteria. Miasma. Throwaway after cleansing.

Sponge is warming the air around and humidifying.

Holes will help do that.

Holes will be those.

It comes and goes. The sponge nose

I breath in

and return again and again after

some breaks

to a sponge absorbing the air around

and exuding sponge wells.

Both I Guess I Have to

When I keep myself small

it is cringy.

When I unfurl my wings feelings

are free to soar.

I breathe and

A stunted need to protect myself drugs my sensitivity

I feel


A Chi Trance

wonderful body feel!!

my body feels!!

I feel

a big breath breathes me. Im rocking within a moving wave.

I feel freed by feeling the boundaries of my limitations.


Oh puritan me. wanting to make things one way or the other. Unnatural.

So I learn what to do with tension. It is not a western question that I hear asked much.

What does one do with tension? What does one be with tension?

Commune. Repress. Create. Evolve. Evolves.

What if tension were turned into Chi?

The Both.

The circuitry between elemental of something.


like me; an ode to death

I am a part of

this living world.

This world

that is also dying.

What would someone like me

be able to interprete

about the cycles of life and death?

People like me

are afraid of death. And don’t live life.

People like me

are uncertain when a thing is dead.

People like me

don’t understand what animates truly living.

People like me

have forgotten the goodness of death. The rebirth of death. The rebirth in death.

The juice of death.

Death is dry and dusty for my people. There is no juice squeezed in the warm dark of death.

Cold, white-lighted, lifeless fear has replaced death in many an understanding.

Juice is considered courageous now as outrageous as that sounds.

This living world

is a part of

I am.

That is also dying

I am.

Moon Sky

On a moon night

I looked out from my window

and this is what the moon and stars were doing:

an isosceles triangle

with the base nearest the bare earth


in the moon sky

with sparkling stars at each

of 3 points

and the moon

turned smile up

floating near the center bottom

of the isosceles.

There we all were.

The moon and the stars in the sky

me in my blankets.

I felt pregnancy. I felt water’s pull. And gravity. I felt tides. I felt shape-shifting. I felt connection. And fresh breath air. I felt expansion and growth.

The moon and the stars and the shapes they were in and the shapes the moon and the stars made

in the nighttime sky.

We commune together.


Certain situations increase my anxiety. Certain people increase my anxiety. I cannot flee from it or them. I have to do what I can to walk away.

Walking away is hard to do. Hard to feel oneself doing the walking away. Lonely. Painful. The necessity of it the only felt freedom for a while.

When I can find the best attitude I feel free. The best attitude for me to walk away is: I love them. I was clear about what I needed/wanted. This hurts too much and I need space.

Then it doesn’t become about anything other than I did what I could and I could do no more. The situation could or could not meet me halfway.

I am writing this right now because I have a tremendous and nagging anxiety. In every area of my world I am doing what I can so that the anxiety will calm. But it keeps morphing. Becoming about something else. I may be trying to avoid a sadness or a sense of loss with anxiety. I may be trying to trick myself into beating up on myself by causing my own anxiety with thoughts of my being unworthy in one form or another.

It could all be that I cam happier than I have ever been before and I am uncomfortable with that. It could be that I am so uncomfortable with my own happiness that I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know when, or where to be happy. I don’t remember my happiness. I don’t think about the things that fill my world with meaning. I think about the things that Im angry about. I like the adrenaline and self-righteous surge.

So there. I have considered the possibilities. I have done what I love. I have sent the emails. I have eaten and cleaned. I have recognized my brutality toward my own lightness and happiness. I have said what I could to the people that I had to have space from. I have done what I could.

I will try trust. I will ask my allies if they can take my anxiety from me. My focus alone can’t handle the anxiety.

Allies: I invite you into my spirit, my heart, my body and my mind. I invite you with me so I may ask you questions. Also, beautiful spirits, so I may ask you to please remove this horrible anxiety from me. Or help me become aware of what I could do to remove the anxiety from myself.

Thanks you so much spirits. You are so wonderful and I love you.

Spirits: You will have to be radical to love yourself. Practice what is, for this culture, radical self-love.

Me: I want to watch TV and tune out of all things. But I think that is what has been giving me so much anxiety:)

A Rewhite

Continually engaging in revisionist narratives that leave out the central theme and factor of pain. The pain could source from one’s own or another’s. The horror that attends pain of this level is also rewritten out of the narrative.

This horror that attends pain of this magnitude is replaced in the new narrative by a false sense of benevolence. The fantasy narrative places the abuser in a savior or god-like position in relation to the victim. This revisionist rewrite casts a spell over the situation. The brutal, panicked actions of the abuser are enchanted so that they appear as benevolent and ‘providing’ magnanimity.

A word on a goodbye

A goodbye

as one goes out or in a door

is a funny thing.

It can change shape. Just like anything in life. Or it can stay the same while you change shape. Just like anything in life.

A funny thing.

A goodbye. What does a goodbye even mean exactly? It depends.

Goodbyes mean relief. Goodbyes mean grief. New horizons. New tasks.

Of all the different moments people say goodbye to each other within, I could never know the meaning of them all. Or even most of them. If you’re someone who’s never had goodbyes, I don’t know about that either.

Goodbyes squirm and twirl around a lot before they settle in. Goodbyes have a beginning, a middle and a tail. Sometimes a goodbye’s tail will slink around twirling around things for a while after the goodbye has been said. Sometimes the tail twirl lasts not at all.

Brutal. Languorous. Swift. Sodden. Surprising. Quick. Happiness. Freed.


So they take a while. Or they don’t. I can’t get around the goodbye to explain it. It has explained me.