holy impressions

photo by Atlee

I am trying to accept anxiety as a strategic friend, trust in my capacity to create my own joy, and loudly maintain routines of comfort. I hold these current active desires like the traces of an embrace, gently and with intent.

Light’s influence is what I most like about living here. This newly discovered perception acts as a solipsistic aperture. This writing space, especially lately, has become a catalog of such impressions. Every week I try to encapsulate the mundane pieces of myself in hopes of illuminating and also distilling my meditations; a brave attempt to honor grandeur of thought.

Writing is a numinous process
similar to those seconds between lightning
and then thunder.

I’ve been marinating in the honesty of Dorothy Allison’s Talking About Sex, Class & Literature. Allison’s penetrating words have triggered this post: “Traditional feminist theory has had a limited understanding of class differences and of how sexuality and self are shaped by both desire and denial.” This statement so acutely supports my obsession with desire – for others, for choices, for pleasure – that my mind shut down with the impact of this truth.

Allison eloquently and systematically breaks it down, “It has taken me most of my life to understand that [running away or closing up inside yourself], to see how and why those of us who are born poor and different are so driven to give ourselves away or lose ourselves, but most of all, simply to disappear as the people we really are.”

Writing forces me to not run away. Today I write to remind myself of this verity.

ceremony as positive propaganda

Dead leaves overturned like hands folded for prayer are echos of cyclical cessation; processions that are intentional and rhythmic, like breathing or lullabies or forgiveness.

The planets are telling me to welcome division by shedding those relationships that are not good for me. This requires boundary setting and sifting through the hyperbole of internalized self-doubts.

It feels radical to maintain this fire of confidence. I wonder how much of this setting and shifting must be done in solitude and that which must be done in community? Who will inspire me and how?

I learned it’s not lobbying if you educate; an epiphany reborn almost every time I speak.

you can’t take it with you when you go

I’ve been thinking a lot about: ceremonies, Indian summer, peachy light, witnessing, forgiveness.

I came to hold your effort and left realizing you had none to give. I shouldn’t have been surprised and for that reason I cannot continue to hold these lingering regrets.

Draped flesh, buried sadness, and apparitions of familiarity are now a loop closed. It’s evidence that even circles have sharp edges.