4.23.2021

dis-connect from discordance

 Re-adjusting the kaleidoscope this weekend as I know how to. Disharmony has no invitation to settle into my essence. Check it out. Check out. Check back in. Renewal. 

Saturday morning on the lanai feeling hypnopompic. This. This state of mind is where I flourish- even in this discordant environment where work life threatens to dominate my being. Fuck it. FUCK IT. Get the fuck over it. Fight or flight. I give a beauty of a fight when push comes to shove. I shoved myself this weekend. 

So... the cocoa butter has liquefied. It's that time of year. The morning breeze is steady and further checks me out. The healing continues. Elemental. It's all syncing, penetrating, making me malleable once again. 

One of my yoga teachers in Istanbul had this funny way of checking it out in class. It went something like this: "Inhale deep. Exhale long and slow: f   u   c   k   i   t". At some point the entire class is chanting FUCK IT. Good days, those were. 

So a good dose of 'FUCK IT meditation' is up and running this weekend.  It's all about the dose and I give good dose- especially when I'm at critical mass. 

One Hundred Years of Solitute. An interesting book to discover During the Time of Covid-19... Here's the thing; Covid-19 necessitating solitude was never the challenge for me. Perhaps it's true that the Generation-X peeps weather the isolation easier than others, I'm not sure. My cocoon has been pretty tightly wrapped long time now. I'm doing well, for the most part. I have surrounded myself, as always, with my passions. 

The beauty of that feeling of turning pages of a book... That sound. Connections made. Minds altered. Spirit travels. Yes please. Take me away. 

Working out + jazz music. What a powerful combination I've delved into. Charles Mingus. Art Blakey. Freddie Hubbard. Miles. Stan Getz. Sergio Mendez. All the ledgends old and current. 

Crocheting 'granny squares'! Yes hardcore cottage-core happening in my abode. I'm crocheting together my path. My story. So much goes into each square: energy, memories, tears, fantasies, goals, life-force. 

Today... I think I'm ready to pull out my sewing machine- that I have a love/hate relationship with. Unfortunately, when I purchased it here in Sulaimani, the only models available were without a foot treadle...Who the fuck uses a sewing machine like this?  There is a button to press on the machine itself to 'reverse' & when you need to stop. It's a lot to deal with when one likes to be guided by creativity and instinct and suddenly you stress to figure out how to stop the machine. 

Stopping the machine... Yes, that's what I'm doing this weekend. A HARD STOP and a FREEING RE-START. Yes, FUCK IT. That's where I'm at and so thankful that I  continue to reach this space. 

My Secret Gardenia Garden Season 3 is nearly here. On my walks and runs right now spring is EVERYWHERE. Those pesky gardenias are still undercover though. It takes perseverance to appreciate their blossoms!  The weather is increasingly hot. I feel they are ready to POP any day now. The roses are in full-bloom so my olfactory sense is overflowing with sweet nectar, allowing me to get into that dream-time space. The cake... soon come. The March of the Gardenias nears. I wait with anticipation. 

The freaky gas canister delivery truck is blaring in the background. It's like some kind of fucked up horror movie starring scary clowns. A jackhammer hums nearby. As I occupy my lanai the, pigeons fret about- wondering why they are barred from landing on my lanai. FUCK IT. Fuck them. Fuckers. I'm at war, and I give good war. 

 I am whole again. 

Peace 

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