7/13/09 DREAMLAND

Dreamland is a special place. It exists here on earth. People here write in cursive because there is no need to break the line, from one thought to the next, between the darkness and the light, everything here flows effortlessly into itself, in the proper way it needs to be expressed at the moment. Earlier this year it felt like there was 'something that needed to be connected to' in order to plug in to dreamland. A 'different' feeling, different 'voices' to listen to. Now I no longer hear the voices, it seems that I AM them. If I were writing this with henna on skin I'm sure these words wouldn't be words at all. They would be prismatic shapes, as if looking at a chessboard at the bottom of a swimming pool--some ideas liquidy and difficult to grasp, but clear as experienced in the moment. Clear as it is what needs to be clarified with an unbroken line, uniting shadow and light, uniting sickness and health, bringing a field together and translating it into the truth of itself, the truth of the intention. The truth of vibration. I feel your thoughts shift and the shapes change. Maybe these thoughts are hectic and hurtful and my line will reveal that. It may be somewhat sad, but I trust in the higher wisdom guiding me. I trust that if this garbage needs to be seen, so be it. In dreamland things seems innocent and clear. It is important for me to remember that dreamland looks different of the outside than it does on the inside, and for the past week I have been learning more about both points of view.

7/12 Pick the one that STICKS

Hi Lee. You are the one that sticks. Maybe NOT in the way you wish you were the one that sticks. Maybe you ARE the one that sticks in the way you wish to stick. Or you don't realize you are sticking in the way you wish to stick. Like peanut butter that I give to a dog to stop him from barking for awhile, your nastiness has wrenched my thought patterns and serves to distract me in this time being. Your personality is a science experiment on a horribly wrong kind of VELCRO. I was nice to you, and you took that cue, thinking that you were sticking with an industrial strength adhesive--but those chemicals be TOO STRONG FOR ME--I just want to be free. Go back in the lab, and maybe you will see why I recoiled and told you to stay away from me. Instead, you reer and hiss...obviously hurt from your stick-less entry, the automatic transmission which puts your unconscious motives in charge and not what your ego thinks you could be...

grr...

Who, me? No, I haven't seen this on tv, do I know you from somwhere? A roller coaster ride or a singles supper club? A pta meeting? Why is this attracted to me? This subconscious plea seems to me something I could have released a hold on every time someone may have just been "being nice to me" but instead I was the velcro factory, aggressively creating fabrications, thick tapestries woven together with scotch tape and snot, glitter and glue. I was the one who couldn't see, so now it's bouncing off of you and sticking to me.

July 1 My Birthday

I had a wonderful birthday. I woke up at 6am with a headache and a watermelon on my bed. The watermelon had a big fat orange bow around it. I fell back asleep and woke up at 10, got dressed in a red flowing dress that was laid out for me (!), and took my watermelon to the bakery so I could chop it up. Heddles chopped half of it up for me and put it in a huge bowl. I went outside and sat in the grass with my bowl of watermelon slices. I contemplated walking the labyrinth but there were people there and it occured to me that it was the perfect time to go to the lake and swim. I went and bathed in the sun and read some Sedaris and swam and felt cradled by mother, again and again. On the way to the lake I spoke with my birth mom and on the walk back I spoke to my art mom, Dr. Mehr, who I thought of as I ate one of the daylilies off of the crown of daylilies that Ellen made for me. After I chatted with Dr. Mehr there was a DELUGE of birthday hugs as I entered the building. I felt like a princess. I ate lunch and Zeek escorted me to my room where I met up with Carly. Carly gave me a loving massage that afternoon. After this we polished off the watermelon. Then I bathed and sauna-ed and had my aura photographed. The aura was Red, Pink, Purple, and Indigo, with blue and white down my arms. The pink was over my belly where I had some self-loving henna applied to myself. I felt validated, as I felt the combination of grounded color (red) , elevated color (purple), indicated a balance of both realms, and pink is of course a combination of red and white, earth and sky. I rushed to dinner because I was late and I ran to set my things down and the first empty seat I saw and a table filled with friends. In my haste I forgot why it was so crowded--suddenly I was blasted with a very lively rendition of the happy birthday song. Hedley made me a beautiful and delicious raw blueberry cheesecake. Ellen showed me the card she made, it was a dreaming crab. She had all my friends draw dreams for me in the thought bubble. I got very verklempt--it was one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me. Then I announced that I wanted to have a dance party that night. After dinner I got an acupuncture treatment. Then the dance party, which was tame, but fun. Towards the end, the Beck song 'Deborah" played and I made everyone in the room slow dance with me. Afterwards, Cassie, Sarah, Ellen and I got tea and snuck into the hot tub. It was a special, wonderful birthday, full of whimsy and also structure. When someone asked me what I will do in my 26th year, I instinctively responded, "Make Money." Time for me to take my tools into the world.

6/28/09 I Remember

I remember...feelings...more than words...speaking feelings, letting words in from a different place.
A knowing, those words, those words I let in and then, feelings, more than words, bigger than words, holding me in place as I place my hands on the dying...
At the time when I have just the right thing to say it can only be said with my hands and my short gasps, with my heart knowing those words I let in, speaking feelings from our shared planetary exchange.
Homes and lands and the way clouds fill each others' voices with songs.
The way atmospheres tremble as elements collide, as I tremble with God at my footsteps.
Pulsing with knowing.
Letting words in from a different place.
I remember incantations in my revelations, inklings that twinkle and stories that simply aren't true.
I remember cave writing.
I remember words that aren't words and knowing their simple truth fills my tears with pulsing Godsteps.
Step on my God, my tears with not knowing, for I know not what I do.
What I do with this blessed interface, interacting with the sacredness that remembers me when I choose to remember it.
Inklings that twinkle and lights and laughter and memories of people I have been and stories that simply aren't true.
Caves and voices and remember that time when my eyes were closed and you were all there, laughing and smiling?
At the time, a knowing.
I remember.