It seems like the last 10 days have been a lifetime.
I did my best to stay on my surf board, toes on the nose, sprinting through the swell.
Don't look down. Feel the electricity. The ionization electrifies.
This is what it feels to be alive and on top of it, accelerating forward beyond your control.
The emotions in my head are bouncing around like water molecules.
First and foremost, I am very proud. I am now confident that I can rise to any occasion. And what an a occasion this week has been! Never could I have thought that a week after returning to SF, after my rockstar stint in Portland, would I be dealing with blood types, websites, holy gatherings, paypal, broken ribs, consulates, animated gif's, non-profits, air ambulances, and burners. Lots of burners. (I love you all btw, but I have still never gone.) I never would have thought that I would have to deal with the consequences of a quick$65k in my bank account while I personally just have enough for rent. At least it makes it easy to calculate.
I am so absolutely astonished at how quick everyone sprung to action.
It makes me think of the dew that catches on a web that makes you realize it's there.
This network of doers, performers, thinkers, creators.
It's usually invisible, but the golden threads are found, attached to our crowns, giving us a ground. We are always at the forefront of the storm, shining our glow into the dark, pushing back the clouds with our lightningbolts.
In this tempest I think of you, Hollis. All the little things like drinking tea, watching movies on the victorian fainting couch with the kwanza bench afoot. The way you try to pronounce fancy words with your southern ignorance conciously tucked deep down, trying to get out. I think of every single moment we have had together, like a slideshow in my periphereal vision. Us tap dancing in the livingroom to that video of the lady with uncomfortable stretchpant suspenders. You teaching me how to do the booty quake. Your love of dumpster diving. That stupid car you had that you kidnapped me in. With the huge heart hanging from the rear view mirror that blocked a large portion of the windshield. The silver window shade you always put up because half of the time you were living in your car.
You wanted a place to settle so bad. You were sick of sharing rooms. House sitting. Baby sitting. Ever since we moved out of the willow street house, you had been searching for a home. You thanked me before you left to India, because you realized that you had a pattern of running away, and the reason you were in the bay still was that your family here wouldn't let you go.
Oh god is that ever true now. We've got you whether you like it or not.
Here is where my thoughts bounce again, like water in the sun.
I am chasing something too. I am not sure what I am supposed to do here. I thought it might be The Derailleurs, but now Im not sure. There is something that has been calling me louder and louder, and is now screaming in my ear. I need to go to massage school in Floyd, VA for a year. I can come back, I just need this opportunity. I need to learn chinese massage and I need to cultivate my internal workings. I need to study gongfu intensely. But I have to huslte it. And I just spent a week helping you get hooked up with $65k. I used to be so afraid of money until that moment. That is how much I have made in 5 or 6 years! In a week! I need $8k to go to school without loans. I need $3k to go to school period because my angel of a godfather will give me a competitive loan, but I need to come up with 1/4. In one month. Why does it seem so impossible? Is it too early to move out of this city? How can I make that money whenI don't have a job or any skills? With broken ribs?
Which, by the way, SUCK! This is the worst pain I have ever felt, constantly. Oh how walking the line of yin and yang is such a parabolic adventure. Two weeks ago I am on top of the world. My old job in Portland worked out while I was there. The FUN Movement I helped with is growing new wings. The Sprockettes are all so loveable and they let me perform for them. I saw new mutant bike games. My life highlights were satyrized in musical theater. Of course I needed to come down from that high. But I enjoyed typing away at the computer for Hollis. I didn't have time to get upset or sad or slow and thick with inability to help the situation. And with my organ protector shield down, I have had to stay inside and push out the walls of the blogoshphere.
I hope I can make it on this board to shore. I want to cruise on this wave to shore, away from the curl, and out into the surf, where I can float to sand, calm and at peace. But it seems like the way I have set it up, that I am already tumbling in the gray chaos between sand and water, unaware of which way is up, unable to breath, fully aware of the next wave ready to pounce.
Is this what they call a "Saturn's Return"?