writing because i am overcome, reading roxane gay's "an untamed state". sometimes i'm compelled to read something that is wrenching and overwhelming and all the more necessary. and doing so, sometimes i need to stop and go outside and feel cool air across my face before i can continue. it's all those words (brilliant, powerful, amazing). it also freaks me out; i remember once, being all of 13, being thrown down by half a dozen boys on an empty football field one friday night and somehow being able to walk away. do i believe in magic? in guardian angels? you bet your ass i do.
the soundtrack tonight is sharon van etten's new "are we there" which is also dark in places. and yet.
these flowers outside remind me that with darkness comes light, with pain
(if we're determined, blessed, relentless)
comes healing. and beauty. it is always there, if beyond reach at times.
"distance has a way of making love more understandable" -
sharon van etten.
i love riding the bus. and I love the color ofthis woman's shirt and the contrast of her head scarf. this seems a far better use of my phone than simply staring intently into the little box and missing the blue skies and one another.
there was a great post by danielle la porte yesterday that made me sit up and then go for a walk. walking is my default for emotional agitation. what made it so very helpful is that she offered a new perspective for a one of my most persistent ETH (emotional tripping hazards) (you know, where you can't stop perserverating over a person [usually] or circumstance where the only thing you have control over is yourself, and it's not working). her essay allowed me to consider the possibiltiy that perhaps... just perhaps, i have missing the boat on someone elses experience. shake up my world, why don't you?
more on that to follow.
i'm streaming their latest. it's a good place to start:
But there is only forward, no other way / Tomorrow was your whole bad at the end of the day / And gold turns gray / And gold turns gray / What if a heart gives in despair? / What if the road won't take me there? / Oh, I wish, for once, we could stay gold
the sun is leaving and this evening is winding down. the dappled light that filled this room twenty minutes ago is gone. still, spring is shifting into summer and moving forward. still, everything changes, just as last week's full moon is waning in the sky.
why start this again? because i need a place to write, and journals have their limits. i started one over six months ago, and it's a wonder and a blessing to see that i have continued. still, i crave a place to write stream-of-consciousness, or finger-flowing.
this morning i went for a walk, and as i strode out of the building, i felt anger. it crackled in my mind, i could feel it in my steps and i wondered at it's sudden appearance. walking with it, heading up 4th avenue and over to jackson, up to the MAX turnabout and as i stopped to take a picture, i realized i was not angry. i felt broken-hearted. my defended heart dropped its shields and i breathed. sad. loss. not fury. deeper breath. softening.
this is how it happens, when i'm willing to name, wait, watch for some hint, movement, revelation.
and with the sadness, i felt grateful. for having something to lose. for the space it left allowing something new to enter. can i, will i, leave the space open?
the soundtrack tonight is sharon van etten's new "are we there" which is also dark in places. and yet. 
this morning i went for a walk, and as i strode out of the building, i felt anger. it crackled in my mind, i could feel it in my steps and i wondered at it's sudden appearance. walking with it, heading up 4th avenue and over to jackson, up to the MAX turnabout and as i stopped to take a picture, i realized i was not angry. i felt broken-hearted. my defended heart dropped its shields and i breathed. sad. loss. not fury. deeper breath. softening. 