Pointed

When you’ve reached the point of contention,

Her pursuit becomes relentless.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide,

She’ll catch you in her talons,

The air thick, your forehead sweating from the tension.

Feeble and fumbling your words crumble and crack

She’ll cackle manically, her neck snapping back.

Fire she breathes, through her teeth it seeps.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing,

Suddenly she does not seem quite so sweet.

A point that pricks, contention leaving everyone breathless, weak.

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Bent

Perturbed by the potential of something magnificent. The unduly unfolding challenging reality as it is presently comprehended – layers as fragile and flaky as the seemingly endless epidermis. Peel, pluck, plunder to make room for resurfacing. To renew, rejuvenate – REDISCOVER.

Stagnant. A cest pool for staleness, greedy for grit, bubbling with bacteria. Festering for development, rebirthing ravenously. Stillness baiting for the opposite.

Opposites dragging, digging, diving either direction. Balance, coy and calm, patiently awaiting a slack in the tension. There she remains in the middle.

Energy abundantly absent in resolution. The human ailment relentless and hungry for some kind of charge. Friction at its finest – I suppose I truly do not mind it.

Bent.

My mistress, Summer

Summertime is ending baby

And I’m losing my mind.

The light keeps on dwindling, I’m trying to buy more time.

The heat has had me sweating,

But to me that is just fine.

Salty, sticky and sweaty as can be –

A suitable treat for my hearts greed.

Not quite ready to let her go,

That sweet summer vibe-

So yummy, so slow.

Let me keep melting with sun-

Leave me behind to revel in the fun.

Let my soul keep singing in her enchanting light,

Promise everything will be alright- alright?

Come back to me three seasons from now,

I’ll be right where you left me-

Surely beaming and wearing a smile.

I’ll chase the sun, my Summer mistress-

Without her just wont do,

I’m afraid when she leaves me,

There will be nothing left of me to give to you.

Sweetness of your blues

I’ve been living in a dream,

Weightless-

floating in this sea of you and me.

Tender and true,

A more vibrant me when I’m paired with you.

The sun it rises, the flowers turn towards its rays-

In my dream state, I turn to you and do the same.

A smile from you, enough to change my entire day.

Honey, sweet darling I’m smitten as can be –

You’re the soundest man I know,

My soil, my water, my roots –

Grounded and as expansive as a tree.

As long as I’m with you, my heart will keep singing this tune,

Put your hand in mine and let’s float until we reach the moon.

Losing it…maybe lost

I drop my joint in the bath after only two puffs. Not the kind of puff, puff pass I was going for. Unceremoniously, it floats amongst the bubbles, ash disintegrating, paper becoming translucent. The water is a muddy green from various salts and oils. Epsom to draw out my toxins, Eucalyptus to ease my breath and slow the senses, green tea to liven my skin. I stare at it for a while before pawing it out, place it on the outer rim soggy and disheartened, an unwelcome metaphor for my lack of spirit these days.

Sweat is dripping down my forehead into my eyes, my heart rate is far from calm. Will it not slow from the caffeine? The heat of the water? The charge of the full moon has been making me restless all day. I can’t focus. I come to terms that I am to revisit this part of my cycle where I become fidgety and clumsy. Tim Buckley leaks from the speaker, a soundtrack for the candles to dance in. I lay down, try to settle in. I try one foot out, both feet in, draping my feet over the edge and dripping water on the floor. I adjust my hair clip, turn my neck, knock the soggy joint onto the floor. I end up sitting cross legged, upright and sideways. What the hell? I should sit any way I please right? Besides I feel like a creeping, feral creature this evening. It seems fitting.

My entire body is tense from overworking it. I switch the music to Alice Coltrane. I readjust my posture in the tub. I never take the time to turn off anymore, to explore my mind, feed the soul. I’ve forgotten my feminine call to the wild soul. It is crucial to return back to self. I spend so much of my time staring at this damn screen. My inner self feels empty and starving. Even the words I write are lifeless and flat. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say here…

I’m drifting, but it seems like it may be the wrong direction.

I Bite

…like a game of cat and mouse, I linger and prowl. My eyes watch you carefully. I notice how your lips move, catch the curling in the corner of your mouth. You’re blatant with your disconnect, something I am comfortable with and will allow.

Comedic relief in the furrow of my brow. How you think you see me clearly, another girl to add to the count. Yet, I hide behind walls much larger than those you speak. My soul entangled in vines that suffocate – they twist, turn and creep.

Entertainment is what you provide, a slippery slope of another wild ride. A familiar game of subtle plays, isn’t it a joy to act in this charade? You think you’ve found the prize because all you see is what hides between my legs. Yet, what I see in you is a young boy hidden and afraid.

Just another way to pass the time, another way to distract my tireless mind. Bait me enough to keep me intrigued, give this kitty a tasty snack that calls to the most primal of needs.

Perhaps it isn’t you, most likely it is me. Another game of cat and mouse, my nature demands it, I just cannot go without.

Petals

When my petals are withering, my flower bleeding hot and thick. My brain as swollen as my ovaries – my heart feels like nothing, but an empty pit. The tides of my mind become a bi-polar demise, fervent emotions that rise and rise and rise.

The pulsing of time willows and fades. Delusion more common with each passing moment of the day. My thoughts distant and array, sound becomes like water in my ear canals – desperate for a drain.

Compassion she calls to me, seeking softness from the pain. Yet, pride and her companion, ego, beckon more strongly their guise a faux shelter distant from my minds haze.

I drudge and I drag, eyes shift looking every which way. Where will I go? How long shall I stay?

The blood it stains my thoughts as it stains my sheets. I slink into my boiling tub, my skin as red as the heat I leak. Simmer and wrinkle, I soak away these blues. The reddest of red, it is the darkest hue.

Feline

Feral and female.

Ferociously fictitious fervor forever fumbling for fantasmic release.

Finally!

She sears me with the sharpness of her tongue aflame

Kin to the explosions she elicits in my heart. Wildly vivacious an intellect of an origin unnamed.

Driven by desire and balanced by societies restraints-

Again she will bellow into the night, a witch who cackles –

Hysteria they say, but their eyes remain.

Unmatched in her wit, fearless in her game.

Dare to run or dare to hide-

Fellow females fester finding finesse in her fame.

Monster

There’s a monster crawling on my back.

As soon as I turn to catch him, he retracts.

In the luminescence of the night he creeps-

His voice syrupy sweet, so sticky I can hardly breathe.

The density coats my throat,

Panic, gasp and choke.

There’s a monster digging his nails nice and deep.

Sometimes he hides, but I know he lingers closely-

The scent of my blood too enticing to retreat.

There’s a monster gnawing on my thoughts,

A weight tied on my ankles,

Dragging me down until I’m lost.

Journeying In

Are you brave enough to bare your soul? Can you shatter open your barricaded chest and allow the light to flood your heart center? Can you call feverishly to the wind and command it to carry your every wish to the universe above?

I arrive in a bluster. The trip from home blurring by unexpectedly quick. My drive timeless, distorted by the realm of the looming rain and dull, grey skies. My heartbeat quickens with the whip of my rear tires as they skid on the winding dirt road. A childlike laughter seeps from my lips as a rainbow blooms over the property where my destination resides. Freedom.

One by one, sometimes two, the other women trickle in. Each of us reflecting in each other the charged energy created when excitement and nerves dance together. We settle in, settle down, place our things in their temporary homes. Twelve sets of cat like eyes scanning inquisitively to assess the environment we have stepped into. Delicately, purposefully, intelligently each of us taking inventory from our own perspective. My own being fascinated with the feminine nature – sharp as a knife and somehow equally as soft and inviting…

The property is nothing short of magic. Tucked unobtrusively amongst the boulders, the home sits on its landscape as a welcome neighbor. Art of all variations seeping into every corner, every crevasse exuding careful attention and beauty. My attention follows every detail as my souls greed does its best to absorb it all inch by inch. After niceties are established, I retreat to my tent beyond the home. One other woman and I are set to share a tent similar to those used in summer camps. It sits on a platform and bestows a homey bed with decorative blankets draped in vibrant colors. We vibe easily and work the furnace as a team until the heat of the fire adds weight on our eyelids. I drift to sleep dazed by the light sound of the the rain, disillusioned in the lovely space between sleep and consciousness. I envision the starry night of the desert sky washing us clean as the flames meet the droplets and all is becoming one.

We rise together and make the short walk to the main house with a crisp and biting desert wind on our heels. We eat breakfast with the rest of the twelve women and settle in for meditation, followed by yoga – the cadence which will continue for the rest of our mornings together. We sit cross legged in a tight knit circle by the fire and bundle sage. The Spanish style tile picks up the heat quickly, which I am grateful for. The room is lined with full length windows, the folds of the valley rolling endlessly until they meet the snowy tops of the far off mountains and it all blends into the sky above. A book on the shelf calls to me, “The Wisdom of the Serpent”, I spend my time between the other meals and our evening practice exploring its pages of philosophy. My mind starving for this reawakening.

Our second day begins the same. The routine offering a meditative repetition that feels as warm to the soul as the Mexican blanket feels wrapped around my shoulders. Today when we return to our circle, we gather tobacco in white linens. With intention we hold it against our hearts, a pinch in our left hands to follow native tradition, infusing our desires to the sacrament before binding them for offering. As a group, we share three rounds of Om and disperse in silence to explore the land and turn in. I hike up to the homeowners meditation room, stacked entirely of stone on the highest peak on his acres of land. I find a flat rock at the edge of its looming height and settle in. It is here I stay for some time with the snowy mountains in front of me, the desert encompassing me and the wind gushing through me. I write an entry, read a small excerpt, and chant to Ganesha. Om gam ganapatye namah.

The evening bends its way over the sun and we gather for our meal. The room is coming alive with the warmth of laughter and connection as the women deepen together. Unity building, boundaries dissipating. Our generous host, a desert gypsy drowning in jewels guides us through a tribal style dance – embodying every element as she floats throughout the room. “Your head is full of helium, your spine – a string of pearls.” I sleep heavy and deep.

In numerology, the number three signifies the spiritual self having a human experience. In a suitable fashion, on day three my spirit meets my ego. First, we nourish with breakfast. We soften with yoga and mediation. When the suns work is nearly half over, we journey elsewhere. We arrive at the Integraton, erected in 1959, a otherworldly structure built with the intention of anti-aging, antigravity and time travel. It’s acoustics, a perfect harmony, a meeting of precise mathematics and spirituality. We enter the building, empty other than our own company. Nan, our guide, slinks in without even a subtle energy disturbance. We settle in, lying on our backs as Nan begins her mantras. Disconnect she encourages, be lost amongst space and time. You are safe here. She begins. The power of the crystal bowls as she plays vibrate my entire being, there is no beginning and no end. The journey is out of body and I lose my relation to sense of self. I am me, I am each woman beside me, I am every being in one. Before we leave the space, we gather hand in hand releasing rolling Om’s for an unspoken amount of time. I am essentially floating.

The night is sealed with a drum circle. My soul is on fire, my mind wild and free. When we retire, I tuck myself in bed and lay on my back. One hand resting on my heart, the other on my stomach. My breath is calm and deep. I picture the surrounding hills as Native American chiefs laying with me. Here we release ourselves to the stars in unison. Welcomed in the cleansing of the rain, emptied by the gust of the winds, rebirth from the burn of our inner flame and finally grounded by the support of Mother Earth. Shanti.