i was given shoddy instructions on how to funnel sand into wine bottles with my bare hands. at the beginning of the year i was happy to receive some egg yolks thinking that would help. everyone is watching me attempt this with very grim expressions on their faces; it's funny and frightening. and although it isn't real, just a simulation; after hours and days of this, it becomes me. i am the grains falling along the slender necks of the bottles. not succeeding much but becoming more comfortable with energy scattered. perhaps the whole thing was set up for the purpose of scattering rather than to funnel. i wonder if they'll ever tell me, but instead i stand aiming for the small openings, waiting for approval.
matt kahn talks about abolishing the concept of "student" from one's energy field during the transition from student to master but i'm not there yet. i am not ready to bless others. what i can do is assist others to move, to find beauty and embrace their joy. perhaps a client or two would disagree.
a girl sent me her words, she asks what makes the pain better? i said, beauty. the ability to rejoice about the weeping willow dusting this roof. to be free to dance about it. i walked across the street in the direction of a collection of purple clouds. standing on the ground was a man who watched me approach thinking i had a question. i told him i had no question but how beautiful the clouds were. and he laughed. that's what i mean, that kind of thing.
he snores with his mouth open on the floor and i just let it happen. i need more room in the bed sometimes. when i wake up, his giant back is exposed to me, sometimes i push my face up to it or rub it quickly with my palms before rising to pee. i cherish the quiet. the creaks in the wood. the Sweetgum.
i don't want to think about tonight or this afternoon, i want to hug the moment like a lover getting on a plane.