I sit cross-legged on my couch, the heater blasting, crickets singing through the open windows. My whole body thrums, like getting off a train after a long ride. Tonight it is the motion of our time together that resonates in me, and images of our metta rattle dance.
[24 of 30 in November, re-posted from today’s tweet @tryingmywings]
When did I last feel this way? Saturated, as if I can’t absorb one iota more, almost goofy with it, punch-drunk. But I don’t pull myself away from the discussion, don’t want to miss the moment, drawn to these people, swimming in this rich, lively human broth together.
[23 of 30 in November, re-posted from today’s tweet @tryingmywings]
After I let go of my car, a weird thing happens. I finally give up bleach. I stop buying Ajax, switch to Bon Ami. It’s as if making the choice to live car-free leads to ending household chemicals. But it is not conscious effort. It is more subtle, maybe even cellular.
[19 of 30 in November, re-posted from today’s tweet @tryingmywings]
When I let go of my trusty, old red Jetta, I didn’t expect it to last. But it did. It stuck. Cars and trucks produce nearly 1/5th of all U.S. emissions. In southern California it’s akin to treason to suggest this. But if you want to change the world, give up your car.
[18 of 30 in November, re-posted from today’s tweet @tryingmywings]
I learn the FHA refused African Americans home loans in good areas. First I’m angry. Then I’m selfish. I could’ve had black kids on my block. Another heartbreaking part: this denied blacks the chance to build generational wealth. Hard to hold it all without white guilt.
[re-posted from today’s tweet @tryingmywings]
I sit, angry, stiff. Then I become aware of the bees on the ivy’s spiky balls of blooms. The soft hum of them and their warm, steady presence soothe me. I breathe, one hand on my belly. I remember the bee women in Starhawk’s The Fifth Sacred Thing, working their magic.
[re-posted from today’s tweet @tryingmywings]
I’m agitated when I walk outside. We’ve made course rules, no cross-talk, no unasked for feedback. I’m afraid I will break them, blurt things out, cause harm. I face west, stretch my spine. I swing my arms from side to side, let the warm desert wind brush away my shame.
[re-posted from today’s tweet @tryingmywings]
No Holds Barred 