When the Project Becomes the Presence

   

 

 

 

Self-Care

What have I done to my self? To my body. To my armor. My project, my protective shield, that I’ve honed and harnessed to keep me at a distance from dis-ease. While my methods deliver trustworthy results, at the same time, my armor is so strong that it blocks joy and vitality- perhaps as well. No bueno.

The Cost of Maintenance

Building and maintaining healthy armor is the (a?) point. A journey from protection to presence. Find the (a?) path. Go deep into chakra points and follow the (a?) illuminated neural superhighway of energy channels. Hit up every waypoint and hang around long enough to pay homage. Watch the flower bud unfold. Melt the armor. Resilience emerges. No toll booths.

My what a web I have woven. I am guilty, at times, of:

Staying in logic to avoid the mess of emotions. However, I always find my way back.

I instinctively approach getting from Point A to Point B in a straight trajectory. This is solid. Reliable. Logical. Is this what I desire? What is illogical? In converse, when I take the extra time and effort, of becoming effortless, in getting from Point A to Point B in a convoluted manner… this. This is when I flourish.

The Tipping Point

Embrace it. I dive off the deep end, now, comfortably, knowing metamorphosis is imminent. Be patient. Be malleable.

The Body as a Project vs The Body as a Home

Feeding my temple mana from the gods and goddesses: The ambrosia of various herbal tinctures and supplements. The nectar needed to keep the hearth fire burning. What do I do with all this energy I’ve harnessed?

Testing out the Waters

When I drop the mana into my system, what transpires? I no longer care about HOW I get from Point A to Point B. I only understand that the alchemical process is unfolding. I trust. Blind faith built upon science. Structural reinforcements melds into high-vibrational fuel. Base metals turning into gold, from the tactical to the visceral. Ascension.

Mantra: I watch the drop fall. An amber spark of the eARTh dissolves a wall. Marrow is saturating, dissolving rigidness. A door opens. Step inside.

The (a?) goal, I see clearly now, isn’t a thicker armor; it’s a more malleable armor. It’s possible to have both a life that ‘works’ and a life that ‘feels’, but I need a bridge to cross over into thresholds. I don’t need to refer to the map’s waypoint enroute to Point B because I am the journey.

I honor myself: time for a hammam to wash the semester residue from my being. One of my favorite things I’ve learned from this part of the world; hammam time. I purify myself and call my masseur to dissipate all the build-up of shit that no longer serves me. I become whole.

I am woman. Hear me roar.