I am pen to paper no longer
My thoughts are just a clack away
Of my fingers typing in a cadence
Embracing the spirit of come what may
I am dedicated to spirit
Willing to be used for the light
Of share, caring and wonder
I am no longer up anxious each night
There is a rhythm to living
You can step into anytime
Surrender your determination
To do what YOU think is right
Instead close your eyes, then
Bowing your head
Release the fear, anxiety, and dread
Open your heart, remove all the doubt
And you end up shining ecstatic instead.
I am a tiny spark in this vast infinite universe. I am one tiny pinpoint of light in the cosmos. I may be an eyelash on the face of the divine. But I matter. We matter. There is no insignificance in my existence.
Along with the surrender to the universe, there are bonus gifts. There is the gift of faith, purpose, love, angelic realm assistance and more. There is the ‘red cross’ after care fare, that nourishes us because we donated to the collective, except the fare is usually so much better than a sandwich.
Our feelings are a gift, a way to express our feelings of separation from home. Frustration of having to deal with everyone in their own humanity. There may be an occasion of our souls remembering a person from home, where they were so loving, but now are wounded, injured, and striking out.
We’ve got to express ourselves,
it is why we came here, to feel, to write, to feel, to paint, to feel, to sing, to feel, to dance… to feel and set it free of its contraction by expression. To communicate in the ‘language’ we hold dear. To let our souls, sing through expression. To dance with the cosmos, tango with source. Close your eyes, let the outside world become silent, what do you feel? What do you remember? What do you dream of doing? Do that.
There is no matter if you don’t think you are good enough. Spirit wants your pure authentic expression. Express yourself, how do you feel? say it out loud, stand up and claim your place in the cosmos, for you and I both matter, we matter a great deal. Give no care to what others say of us, it matters what we know in our inner hearts to be true. It matters what we feel in those rare moments when all thought has ceased to exist and we are just feeling the light, the love, the perfection of just being ourselves.
We are priceless, we are connected, we are contagious, we can infect the world with darkness or light, it is our choice.
I choose for me. I control me. I choose the light to feed the good wolf, and I will choose it, as many times as necessary to build a strong default.
Repressed emotions are indeed toxic to our being. They may form dark sacks of denied expression. Listen to your body, listen to that oh so sweet tender spot where the universe and you become one.
Shhhh be so quiet, listen right there, that loving whisper that fills you with the knowledge that you are loved and everything is unfolding the way it needs to, is divine.
tears streaming down my face right now, but not from loneliness or feeling i am alone on valentine’s day as I would have expected
from the deep, palpable knowledge that the tremendous healing love running through my being is the reflection FROM source/universe/god/dess. how did I get here from a teenage street urchin, hating my existence?
If you are sans a partner today. I will be your stand in. you are NOT alone. close your eyes, surrender, and FEEL the love that is ours for the taking, our birthright and legacy.
literally just did it myself.
drove to the ‘castle’ (that’s what I call it) to get my lunch after stopping downstairs by my parents to check on them, was given a pressie by my mom, so sweet, yea they most def. have those amazing moments, which I appreciate and celebrate. on my way back I saw a teenage lovely carrying a huge teddy bear. i ‘koolaid’ smiled, oh yea it’s valentine’s day. omg that took me BACK.
memory number 1: standing in toys r us in jersey city, with my kids father, my then husband belly all full and swollen with my eldest. we had walked there from central avenue (our very first apartment) cuz he wanted to buy me a teddy ruxpin, that I had always wanted and never had with my chaotic childhood.
memory number 2: standing in the mall in SC, my 2nd husband and one of my best friends bought me an eeyore from the disney store, I bawled like a baby and walked around all day clutching that eeyore to my breast and introducing my stuffed animal to all kids who ADORED him too.
so very grateful to have both of those memories pop up today.
think about something magnificent that has happened to you, maybe so so long ago, recollect the feelings, let them wash over you and realize that you are STILL loved. love is ENERGY, it cannot ever be destroyed. we are priceless sparks of universe whether we are in a relationship or not. we vibrate with the love of the universe.
If you feel you must have a valentine. I gotchur back. I’m here. we can message and laugh… and you will know without a doubt that you are NOT alone.
we got this miluvs.
happy violent cherub’s day <always with that freakin arrow>
there are dances we are locked in
our bodies adjusted to move
learned by repetition and rote
oh how painful the news
we cooperate with this dance?
denial is the clue
excavation we must do
why does this serve me
if it causes so much pain
why do I stay,
for me what is the gain
fear paralyzes our movement
leaving us to the dance
that we’ve bled from before
robbing us of our chance
instead of a dip
we must learn to fly
forgetting the fear
keeping us locked up inside
yes you will hurt
and feel all alone
not the show you have known
no pity, no blame
no guilt and no shame
owning your choices
wild spirits can’t be tamed
so learn the new steps
your own powerful routine
let go of resentment
your soul light and clean
disregard for the rest
let your spirit fly free
tangoing your best
you remember your passion
your love and your light
reveling in the pleasure
that burns deeply inside
everything is new
your heart open wide
some things might hurt
but there is a star inside!
Trapped in the bathroom with a frantic, passionately crying tall teenage blonde girl holding the door to imprison me. Not sure what to do, wide eyed over the very new drama of it all, I just sat there, feeling helpless. Screaming at the injustice of life, she paced back and forth in front of the door as I tried to come up with a plan to escape back to the side of my aunt who was outside the door probably wondering what happened to me. It was 1979, and we were at Under 21/Covenant House on 42nd street and 8th avenue. We had run away from home together, and after an eventful two weeks on the street in Greenpoint Brooklyn ended up here, surrounded by battered teenagers of all shapes, sizes, colors and sexual orientations. We all had one thing in common. Pain. Lots of pain.
I didn’t know it then but I was to hear many stories over the next seven years. Tales of neglect, molestation, rape, physical abuse. Such sadness and despair. I always listened, held space for and was open for free hugs always. From group and foster homes to runaway shelters, family court houses, a hospital program, to the handball courts and pools across Manhattan and the Bronx. I met so many beautifully hearted young people with stories equal too and much worse than my own.
The Phoenix was on 18th street and 8th Avenue. It was a drag queen performance night club. My best friend Traci was the girlfriend of one the guys who hung out with the gay clientele who frequented the Phoenix. It was kind of confusing to be honest. We hung out with the guys who were ‘not’ gay but hung out in a gay club and we often went with one of the wealthy customers, sleeping over their houses, getting cleaned up and fed. I met many gay, bisexual, transgendered etc… none of the labels ever mattered to me. Who gave a shit? We were all hurting. We were family, those ‘things’ didn’t matter to us.
Hanging in the all-night donut shop on the corner of 18th and 8th, across from the Phoenix, at around 3am in the morning, playing tempest (what do you know about tempest?) I met a young man who needed an ear. He told me how he was molested, and how his father beat him upon learning he was gay. He shared with me that he would have chosen any life but this one. That he hated himself. My heart was there with him, holding space while he told his story.
I have been privy and witness to so many similar tales, from the transgendered booster who got us food when we cohabited in an abandoned house in Red Hook, Brooklyn. (S)He showed me how (s)he tucked his penis to feel more feminine. He also fed me while I was starving. He could walk into the supermarket with a trench coat and come out with food for us. Then there was the drag queen/prostitute that taught me how to apply eyeshadow. She/he was GORGEOUS, I still use that look when I want to look my best. They thought of me as a little sister, never asked me for ANYTHING, just gave of themselves, teaching and protecting me.
I stand. I stand for my gay uncle who died of AIDs. I stand for the LGBTQ community. I don’t give a shit what the world calls you, by what label makes them feel comfortable. You have been some of the most generous loving people I have EVER had the PRIVLEDGE of meeting and I am so grateful for your existence! I am proud to have been your witness and to hold your stories close to my heart. They have enriched my life. Who would choose a life full of confusion, recriminations, and stigma? Why?
We all equally deserve love. All of us, even on the dark days when we make asinine choices. We are all worthy. I stand for all of us.