She was curled up, in a tight cocoon, and resting so precariously on the edge of a tree limb. It didn’t bother her that there were dangers; it didn’t even cross her mind, for wherever she was, home was, and home was always that perfect flavor of beautiful.
I WANT TO START FROM THE BACK TO JUMP TO THE BEGINNING. I am writer; hear me roar. And today with my eyes closed, the Tree of Life appeared, turning all my body’s fluid into sparkling life. Giving streams because that is who I am and I am this and no other. “Just be you. Be you. Be you,” AND THE SUNLIT BLUE DISSOLVED INTO AN ANTIQUATED TEAL, ACCENTUATUING THE FEATHER EDGES. When I glanced back the throbbing was being sewn up, and the words didn’t fall fast enough out of my mouth. It was like the maze in my dream with the abandoned playground. Skydancing through it all because there are not so many in the world as intimate with these truths as I. And this is my charge. To embrace the whole of myself, and soar into the sunset. To breathe spaciousness and patience into the field of my body’s healing. WALK STRONG, AND WITH CERTAINTY.
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Cait
2 years ago
Oh! I was so caught up with this post that I let my tea boil over on the stove…splashing hissing bubbles pulling me from this reverie…
Oh Khandy. (hee.)
THIS:
“…BLUE DISSOLVED INTO AN ANTIQUATED TEAL, ACCENTUATUING THE FEATHER EDGES. When I glanced back the throbbing was being sewn up, and the words didn’t fall fast enough out of my mouth…”
*Antiquated teal. AnTiQuaTeD TeaL. The most beautiful sounds, and flirty ts. I could sing them all day long…until the sun sets.
*When I glanced back the throbbing was being sewn up…mmmm and gasp…and Sweet Savior!
And the words didn’t fall fast enough? What are those words? What would you find if you shoveled into the throbbing…dug deep into the being sewn up? Dug into that Moment of glancing back? If you had an Eternity…what words would Fall?
I want to know.
And Yes Love. Embracing all of ourselves and Soaring into the Sunset…remembering, these bones are made for FLIGHT!! xoxo
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Khandroma
2 years ago
I LOVE that you called me Khandy. What a fun nickname, with echoes back to Fallen and Endie! *giggles and coos* It is so much fun to weave stories with you, piecing worlds together, and lending them our breath.
If I had an eternity, I wonder if words would fall at all? And if they did, which words would fall? Which words?
I’m not sure, my love. This conscious mind is not the part of me that knows. I will shovel into the throbbing, perhaps later tonight when I feel a bit stronger. Right now the pain is kicking my ass, and I am just a puddle in bed, wishing for the Fort, wishing for the magick of your embrace. xoxo
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Marlon
2 years ago
To Sing, indeed — to trace a throbbing through the psychic body, a set of rivulets threading between pleasure and past and pain Each word is a carefully placed curve to guide the water’s path. Singing truth means you don’t judge or shy from the tracery – it’s there, dear Khandroma, it’s there. All of it is real and all of it is there.This sincere footprint of your mind and heart and body is lovely (I’m talking about the whole blog here, the whole presentation), and I appreciate that it exists. I’ll comment where I feel my input is appropriate.Side note: where are you? Boulder or somewhere else? If the former, I’d love to hang out sometime, catch up and reconnect.
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Khandroma
2 years ago
Oh curses that I’m not in Boulder right now! I’d like few things more to hang out, catch up and reconnect. Can we start the catching up and reconnecting process from afar? I’ve missed your presence in my life, Marlon. Thank you so much for this comment. Your opinion has always meant the world to me, and I’m encouraged that this IS my path right now. Sometimes I feel shaky in between breaths and footsteps. After all, it is so much. So thank you, thank you. This feedback and these connections… is so much of why I do this, of what compels me, of what fuels me on this journey. Would love to read some of your work, too, if that’s possible! Sending you endless gratitude, yummy karma and big hugs.
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