the occasional chill

[title reference to the legalization of marijuana]

dreamed of a talked about piece of artwork called the sun. finally towards the end of the dream, this work showed itself: it was a moving triptych, vertical framed photographs that, like augmented reality, changed like a live sunset depending on which way you rotated the frames.

the other dreams have been lofty loverly hopeful flying and something about lizard children.

it's a new year soon. things end and begin here we are. still the most important things are free, and usually right in front of us. i think this is loneliness. 

my favorite shoes i never wear, and

my favorite band is cocorosie.

po'try

t.s. eliot: distracted from distraction by distraction.

distraction: from latin, dis-trahere, to pull apart.

to divert full attention

ah ha, if to pull apart, focus in different directions, then, where is center? is not center always present? which is why the metaphor of yoga appeals: pulling in opposite directions, yet always centered. focus on the constancy, repetition of the breath.

peace is in emptiness.

and, prince

rejoice

https://youtu.be/CoaXgiCA_C4

forgiveness is a direct statement of connection. 

know your internal landscape.  

you are love. you are love. you are loved. you are loving. you matter. that is all you have come here for. your heart is worth everything. 

but the best thing; contrast series

i saw and felt and tasted many beautiful things this weekend, including the rudolf steiner center garden, the lotus center home, aba daba something, happy om, you faerie, grace jones for the first time, my lover's eyes and surrender in body, the moon, my son exclaiming lovingly about a spider in the bush, rock and broken glass, eucalyptus vibrant rainbow leaves, a hawk, or two, a lone coyote, aries vegan poet nutritonist friend's black bean drop off, gay spirited lean black angst knowing, resistance and teaching binary language to said son, ex lover now non separate dream friend, another's pregnant dreams, a two waterfall pool, craft trade business model in the flesh of a blond 41 year old connected thing, lavender cotton baby shorts for a brand new baby life, yet unnamed, yet unlived, a blurred and clear freeway at night; heard deep sound resonance, benign healing lechery, forgiveness and generosity, fuck off laughter, sprouted raw sheep cheese salad, salmon flavored five o'clock, crickets, whatsapp recordimg of radio pop songs on faithfulness, and my own and other's praise, words, essays and truths; but the best thing i witnessed was an overweight suburbian once lonely purposeless lost purposeful mom using a leaf blower to dust her SUV, parked on a cul de sac..

dream series, and car alarms

zombies. ferreal. running, hiding from. coming in the back door, coming up the front stairs. trapped. later group yoga and a faulty plane and a bus that tipped over from too many people in it, 'cause they were running away from zombies.

car alarm, that sweet sound, right out front, three minutes. what goes thru the mind. hmmm. accept. ear plugs. note? love letter to car owners with car alarms. 

listen, ha, your lovely car alarm. ugh, nevermind.

is there a theme?

naked/clothed

awake/dreaming

trust/deception

wet/dry

premeditated/accidental

parent/childless

sweet/sour

adequate/unacceptable

malleable/inflexible

creativity/stagnation, death

*  *  * 

you know when you wake with a story or theme? or a theme derived from a story? and it is distilled into words, but to extricate the nuance is more time consuming than you might allow that morning? so the symbolic meanings play out, and you do your best to stay legal and get to work, and stop to explain little by little. when you probably can't. and it doesn't matter. no one knows your heart, your fears, your soul like you do. love each other, love each other. listen, listen. we get to individuate, and we get to collect.