Move and Be Moved

sacred and profane
fine lines blur holy days tension runs high familal patterns run deep into despair
disrepair bring balance to the past
bless it keep it holy....whole
revisit get it right
write this wrong
a new story
suffering into art
I see the dance
flailing fear between mother and father the breach heaven and earth...the Garden little one divine will dance you home
Truth written in the heart handmade maid life the path with heart..soulful words promise the new story redemption this land all connects and paints a miracle of a life re storied. I see your dance little one the wounding hand... family secrets scream through the body no thing hidden silly really screams so loud never sleep this peace the birthright promised land. damn straight these days held out so smart to wait it out the re-membering the forgetting preordained ok remember to remember forgot to remember just forgot....awake in the dream little time left no more time is now to create this earth on the throne with heaven King and Queen Integrity and Integration all lines up.

Each morning my daily ritual repeats itself. The alarm goes off at six sharp and I emerge from my cozy nest under the down comforter. When we moved into this house, we bought a “Real” bed. Until this last move we never slept in manufactured bed. In the many houses we have had, I always build a platform out of pine wood and threw a King Size madras on top. This new bed is taller than anything we have ever slept on, and in the morning I find myself sliding DOWN, rather than getting OUT of the bed. I find my slippers on the floor and with the ease of a fossilized Dinosaur make my way to the bathroom. This first walk in the morning is definitely not the FLOW; it’s not even LYRICAL, but quite: STACATO. I have found that it takes at least two cups of coffee for me to loosen up those hip joints. Right now, that coffee is consumed in our living room because we are under construction and the kitchen is hidden under layers of plastic sheets. Dry wall dust covers everything and makes the surface of my coffee look like it got an extra sprinkle of Coffee Mate – Aghrrr! We live in CHAOS and struggle to keep up with it. Without the Waves classes, I think my partner and I would kill each other, the contractor, and the news paper delivery person who always miss our drive way and I end up having to climb the Japanese maple tree to retrieve my Seattle Times. But we have our dance, and it does keep us sane and connected. Thanks again Amara and Sara and good luck in Hawaii.

My what? My what?

My fucking vice grips loosen
Expression fullfills dreams
Releasing into fullness
through pain and sorrow
Gifts come pouring forth

My love, My love
Resides within.