|
2006-03-08 - 9:00 a.m. darlings, received an inflight message from one of you and a boy wonder note with prezzies yesterday in the too-tiny mailbox at the new place, it was a lovely way to spend my bus ride having thyme with you. thank you. and the rest is just an emotional showcase for everyone. ready? good. the phone was not hooked up for a week while we moved so was unable to call c-light -- now that it's finally operational he's out on some other farm raising a barn and the only number i have is a cell phone that's perpetually turned off. (ha! kinda like me in fresno.) i'm wading through some thick and slimy dark stuff here. i was hoping for the light of his voice and spirit to help me swim out. i have this amazing ability to disengage from my body when it's not being touched enough, ya know? like, i can totally not be present in my skin, and just allow all my other needs to be met through conversations, both proximate and long-distance, and feel really fine about myself and my life. but my 94-year old yoga guru is coming to san fran this week so i had to get back into my practice in time to be ready for the yoga workshop. = back into my body. = me a weepy mess nearly constantly. = (and this is the really shitty part) i'm just missing everything my clients are saying in counseling, and it's making me look and feel inept. i.e. she'll say "i feel fuschia" and i'm all "you feel dusty rose". like, heaven forbid i should say "scared" or "lonely" cuz then i'll start crying too. vulnerability is a scary place. scarier still to go there with a stranger (thank you for only being strange). and the scariest still is going there when someone is looking to you to be strong so that THEY can go there. i remember this retarded moment in my childhood. painful memory. mom is driving me and shelly armstrong (my best friend) home from brownies. "i ain't missing you at all" comes on the radio. i throw the first and only tantrum i can ever recall throwing (though perhaps there were others). because "you don't miss me!!!!" i wail. it's completly irrational, but i'm maybe 8 years old and being rational isn't yet my forte. shelly and mom stare at me, and mom tells me i'm being ridiculous and ignores me, refuses to comfort something that doesn't make sense. i feel like that little girl right now. my boyfriend is only out of touch for another week maybe less. i have other beautiful friends, i'm going to start attending the hippy vegan potlux in town this sunday and spinning fire with them. school is otherwise well. i get to kiss the lotus feet of my guru this week, and maybe his 34-yr old, incredibly beautiful grandson will touch my sacrum and adjust me in trikonasana -- a girl can hope. but the tears are just always right there just below the surface. because it's scary to be in my body when my skin is so lonely for a touch on the shoulder, some contact dance improv, a kiss on the 3rd eye. i miss you all dearly. my hands miss the curve of your cheekbone. my eyes miss the specific colour of yours, and the way the sun lights off your hair.
|