Year of yin: grains of sand

November collapsed like so many dusky sand castles abandoned by the idle hands whom shaped them. Promises of distant adventures coroded by the changing tides. Pillars soften in the salty grasp as the architecture returns to sludge.  We built no home here. A temporary escape, as joyful as it is brief, in a beautiful day that too can not stay. With sandy fingers and red sun burnt faces we ply our simple task to loose a day, a month, in the coarse fabric of the sand. A playful gesture. Towered & fallen. Unnoticed & unmourned. Tonight my thoughts are with those grains of sand settling on the ocean floor. Who can measure where the tides may pull the pieces that we shed in the course of shaping useless fantasies before we are dead.

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End of the year goals

Checking in my New Years resolutions I’m feeling really good about the place I’m at. Feel very on target & happy with results. That being said there are always a few loose ends to wrap up as well as seeds to plant for the coming year.

My personal goals aka a recipe to flourish:

  • Paint/draw/craft 12 fruits & flowers in 12 weeks
  • Play more bass, write more songs
  • Cook more meals with less meat, consume less alcohol/intoxicants, practice mindful consumption for 8 months
  • Adjust morning rituals to darker season
  • Publish book of poetry, throw a party to celebrate (November)
  • Create dance/video collaboration in bloom (December)
  • Meditate, journal, observation, contemplation, yoga, mindful body work, presence, gentle focus, careful attention, joyful curiosity
  • Leave time for more reading, laughing, loving, hand holding, sharing, listening, dreaming

Community goals aka a offering for tomorrow:

  • Next stage of development for SPC engaging with membership to build thriving community results by May
  • Alt alt producing & mentoring learning cycle – a celebration of weirdos cummulate in January
  • Join international mentorship program (December)
  • Continue to support friends and cultivate strong bonds with women/non-binary folks

Professional goals aka ambition’s map:

  • Spend time catching up on administrative details that have escaped (December)
  • Build portfolio, documentation, and website (March)
  • Develop alternate revenue streams (November)
  • Continue to reach out and build bridges between creatives & businesses 
  • Keep saying no to offers that don’t make sense to leave room for the opportunities that excite me
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Year of yin: abundance

October taught like a bow string drawing from the well that sprung in cool darkness of the soul rippling familiar resonance. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck warm in the dappled sunlight, as hand over fist works steadily to pull buckets of cool crisp crystal to my parched tongue that has cupped prayers silently for too long. Discovered while divining for a secret garden where my soul could bloom undisturbed. My eye focused on the horizon, rod in hand, aiming at the heart of unsung mysteries, finger strikes a chord, echo of caverns below humble footfalls, open to receiving each other in abundant grace. Glory in the morning as a purity that tastes fresh on salty lips slides down my throat in mutual gratitude of the refreshed. Harmonic symphony in an instant. Celebration of bounty surrounded by love notes from death.

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Year of yin: an openingĀ 

September hung heavy on my shoulder. All long grey feathers & stench of rot in the earth. Too long to be comforting, too steady to be hostile. Pressing shoulder blades like tectonic plates, slow & steady, grinding along the surface. A dull ache behind my temple as my two eyes blinked through the darkness holding them hostage. I felt a sudden longing to be free of this earthly drudge & glide among the stars as bubbling laughter or careless whispers. No light & airy thing ruffled these feathers tonight. Instead, solemnly holding my limbs in suspended slumber, weighted by this uncomfortable pressure shifting just out of reach to my blind gape. Then, to my surprise, from the darkest depths there began to spring a crack. A clear red slit of fire. Blood red smile. Taunting me against the bleakness. It grew to a tall gash releasing flighty embers that burned into my retinas like stars. As the crack grew, burbling molten suffering as it went, I began to see that this was the door that I had been searching for all along.

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Year of Yin: rest in peace

August sits as the wick of a candle poised over the table edge and what remains of a heartily devoured meal. Casting warm golden shadows across the silent hall where laughter used to ring. A steady drip of wax mounting over the forgotten hours since we playfully crept up to bed careless bits of mirth strewn about the floor. Half a glass of wine, and whip cream that has fallen remain unperturbed by their suspended fate. No breath of fresh air to disturb this waxing morn, the soft grey light already collecting on the dust of the picture window. Four in the morning and the house echoes in stillness, but the little wick burns on into its final hour. My dreams are spent, slumber deadens the sense once ensnared so sweetly. Released into dreams better left unknown. No sign of hesitancy as the flame begins to flicker and start at the end of its rope. A black reminder in the morning light. Even in peaceful times, all good things must come to an end. Silence envelops us.

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Year of yin: poised to strike

July had the texture of lightening before it strikes. A threat that promises to deliver destructive renewal. The currants firm against my skin taught around a fluttering breath. I am longing for a natural disaster or divine intervention. Nerves like live wires, cloying sticky hot clouds form around my mind as my eyes scan the horizon with lazer percision. Thunder clap looming in my throat as of yet silent. Still lazy in the heat I move slowly as tension rises. Restless & relentless; I am caught spinning lopsided while frictions momentum grinds down the whirligig propulsion as I begin to gravitate towards eternal stillness.

I am gathering my energy to strike out in exacting devotion.

Quiet destruction of idol gods feared by lazy minds. A creative out burst followed by a rich down pour of inntuituve truth seeking.

Electrified battle scars ready for healing.

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Year of yin: surrender

June is that feeling when your rib cage finally cracks open & love pours out. Rushing over the rocky bed you have lain parched. It burbles up out of your dusty bones filled with new vigor for life. Collecting unexpectedly calm in the pools of my eyes. Deep & undisturbed. Reflecting back the dark & stormy sky with placid surface. It overflows the dams I’ve built up to channel the flow out of the way of my delicate secrets. It carves through my mountain face new crows feet life lines. It fills my heart with fierce white foam, rapidly ecstatic, crushing dead branches & lost ships in its path. It drops my stomach suddenly off the edge of perception raining down torrents of secret pleasure & welled up inspiration. My babbling brook turned tidal wave tongue as the very shore cups ear to listen. Deep resonance reaching far out past receding tide, farther than my mind can dream. Surrender to the rich blues, sea greens, and choppy greys — I swallow all. No longer gasping for air each drop fills me with majesty & awe. Treasure lost to groping fingers that see only with a merchants mind. I am home in the wilderness of the ocean floor. Resting in the elemental pull & give. I am home.

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