post-date: 12/29/08

The skies have been drawing me upward. Their breadth sweeps over me like the universe is breathing into me. The clouds, the clouds absorb me into them, carrying me out of my so-called self. They are my greatest comfort here, followed by the stars. When they are low and grey and billowy, yet they sweep along on the wind, stretch and smoothed and shaped into new forms. The winds lift my hair and caress it as it passes, until it returns again. At night when I fall asleep, I cast my dream net out the window to lasso all the secrets hiding within the stars. I see many faces here in the trees. And the leaves are like a sea of earth crashing against their stumps. I can hear the divine more clearly here. It is quiet. All the unrest of the City has left me. I can hear my own thoughts, finally. I can feel my feelings, I can dream my dreams. I feel magic. I feel called. I make magic. I make myself anew. I feel myself feeling more and it finally feels real. And yet this is not the place for me to stay. Neither is the City. I am being called toward untouched forests, rich fruitful earth, fresh salty ocean water, clean clear mountain lakes, luminescent clouds, so many stars they crowd the sky, sun burnt stones, red clay river banks, the songs of birds and the expansive silence in which my precious divine reveals itself. I want to streak my face with mud, run barefoot over rocks and paths, become the great mother and take unto me the sun, my husband. I long to discard my symbols of status, privilege, achievement, and ambition. I long for silence and sit in repose with my equal. I long to wear the gems which my mother bestows to me from the earth, to run free and wild like a wolf, wind rustling my fur, the moon causing a shimmer across my silver coat.

wallow

Something mysterious and strange hangs in the air tonight. A thick electricity of chaotic potential. At any moment it might erupt in brilliant violence. The moon is new and the world is new. I am weighted with a directionless longing. Because I want nothing, I want to want something. This longing is lodged in my belly, waiting to be turned on its head, shaken loose. I need to be shaken, stirred, my fires stoked, unshackled from the familiar and routine. The city is alive with possibility, seeping forth like gas from volcanic vents, struggling against the density of the whole ocean.

My dreams have become more real than my waking life. My emotions are more fully alive where reason cannot reach them. I linger between contempt and affection, love and hate, hope and despair. I do not know what gnaws at my heart, only that it is unfulfilled, hungering. Unsated, it feeds on itself, growing stronger, all consuming. Anxiety shivers down my spine, anticipating the day when this thing is satisfied, consuming itself with cancerous abandon. My heart is ever broken.

There is no peace in my mind, no respite from this nagging need for the mystery that eludes me. I cannot find what I do not know how to seek. I cannot find what I seek until my searching ceases. And still I sense this enigma beyond my grasp, and find myself pursuing it to all ends in the hope of turning up some clue. Yet, nothing. I am met by a mile high wall, erect and defiant. A plaque on its face reads, "You have not reached a wall. There is no wall where you stand. Go forth." It mocks my futile pursuit of a shadow of a dream. When will the shadow take form?

I send myself to bed hungry, a furnace roaring in my gut and bitterness on my tongue.