My brother has always been able to make me laugh with his dead-on impersonations of me. Tracy can do the same thing. They get at some essential part of me, some piece of my personality and bring it in to the light and it's funny, it that cringing sort of way that things are funny when they nail you.
These videos in which Debra Silverman impersonates the 12 signs of the zodiac, caught my attention yesterday. Aquarius made me laugh and cringe the same way Chad and Tracy can do. I found myself thinking, that's nothing like me, oh wait a minute, that's exactly like me. The thing about the tattoos hit particularly close to the bone.
To the people downtown who have nowhere to go to get out of this heat.
To the animals sitting in cages.
To my belly, my thighs and my rounded cheeks.
To those who are grieving and those who are lost and those who are asking yet hearing nothing.
To those dear, important aggravating people in my life who push my buttons and activate the negative emotions in me that are my biggest teachers and warning bells.
To my already-loved ones.
To those I want to know better.
To everyone who has ever sat across from me for a reading, or allowed me to place my hand on them to deliver Reiki, and everyone who ever will.
And everyone who ever won't.
To my exes.
And my present.
To those who judge me or dislike me or avoid me.
To those who seek me and applaud me and enliven me.
To the blood and bones of this house where I live.
To the aching vibrant earth and sky.
To every dark narrow crevice of my past, every fold and turn in my brain, every cell of every living creature and every entity everywhere.
I wish for love, pure and wild.
Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.
"As we allow ourselves to develop new sensitivities, we begin to see the whole world quite differently. We begin to pay more attention to aspects of experience that might have seemed peripheral before. We find ourselves using new language to communicate our new experiences." - Barbara Ann Brennan, Hands of Light
With complete honesty and total alignment I can tell you, this passage of life that I'm living now is the very best part of my life so far, and because it's so good, I have only to expect that it's going to get better.
I'm thinking about this for a couple of reasons. One is that I do this little dance with aging. You know it. You either do it yourself or you see other people do it. It's boring and I'm not going to rehash it. I'll just say that from time to time, I do this dance with "getting older" and the dance sometimes freaks me out.
The other reason is that over the weekend I had a lovely lunch with a friend I've known since high school and we had a conversation about "the past." I try not to do "the past," but sometimes it comes up in such a way that it feel okay or even necessary to do a bit of reflection.
What I realized after I had that conversation was that I no longer felt any need to even glance down the regret road. I honor the path that brought me here. I praise it. I kiss its little face.
Now is the best time for me so far because I am the most comfortable in my skin that I've ever been and because I understand which parts of me are core and because I am free.
This understanding of freedom is relatively new and it has come to me as a result of a shift in attitude that makes me laugh with joy, to be honest. It's so simple, so fundamental, and the fact that it took me until now to get it, is truly delightfully funny to me.
It's about integration and honesty.
There is a moment within the equation of intention + asking + trust + joy, when you feel the corner of arrival. You taste it on the edge of your lips. The world that you have dreamed, that you have carried wrapped in silk over your breast, that you have danced against your hips, this dream is moving into the material.
A graceful rich caravan, it shimmers on the horizon. Its incense swirls at your ankles and the fragrance, heady and layered, rises across your face.
Anticipation and gratitude flutter in your blood, dance through the rooms of your heart.
You can hear the thump, thump, thump - the rhythm of universal love - you can feel it rising.
There is a moment as sweet as moonlit honey. It tingles just below the skin.
If you reach gently out into the night, you can graze it softly with your fingertips.
It's here.the August Break
I love a day like this.
I sent off an e-mail reading this morning (they're my favorite kind to do), scheduled another, booked a new Reiki client and went on a walk. I met a friend for lunch then did some grocery shopping. I made fruited iced tea and a big salad for dinner.
I have ideas; I have plans; I'm thinking print-outs and binders.
The imagined future seems possible in a shining fabulous way.
I'm wearing purple and this always helps.
I straightened up the house and burned the sweet bay oil that makes the kitchen smell like some corner of heaven.
There are poems dancing right behind my eyes in this lovely, lovely world.
Oh! And you! I've been blown away by the love and grace and sweetness of the comments you've left here. I don't tell you enough, but I'm telling you now. Thank you, I love you.
for the August Break