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Werewolf You Under Light of the Full Moon?

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That sun is hot enough to bake you black, or in my case a deep brown, brown enough like the camel colored hide of my closed-toed heels. Legs bleeding into the tan of my shoes, arms bleeding into the tan of my tank top, I feel like a gecko in Arizona dust, visibly invisible in my clever camouflage.

This is not Arizona, but Detroit, Michigan where I, with my latest W.P. Kinsella (R.I.P) book, sit marooned in the middle of my feelings and a slumbering homeless man on the patio of a bagel shop. He’s got a large book open to some page chosen by a light breeze that’s been on steady decline since 9:30 am.

I wonder how dark the man’s dark skin can get under the sun. I wonder if he’ll have a stiff neck having stuck in that position for so long, or if he’s slept here all night; if he’s actually reading that large book in front of him or if it’s more of a pillow. I wonder if we have more in common than this shared space – like how spiritual and material lack vibrates at the same frequency. He wakes briefly, as if my thoughts are that loud, and greets me, but I know he can’t see my eyes behind my even blacker shades, so I stay silent. I’m too tan and naked to be humoring his kindness. I neglected to wear a bra. His eyes are smiling in the direction of my tits.

The air stills, sticks to my skin like this tiny spider biting the top of my foot. I brush it off, surprised by the lingering pain of a bug no bigger than a granule of pepper.

“Isn’t it amazing what such a small amount can do?” A friend said that, a friend who facilitated my recent escapades in acid. Having taken it for the first time, I started small – half a square, then the next day, half of a half – learning where the drug wanted to take me and then settling in – my mind finding a place as pleasant, focused, and wild as the weight of a full moon. Just like that. Feels just like that, like, something so cerebrally stimulating – the conscious mind lunges, fights to be released from its tether; the body, so physically grounded, present, oh so present, yet mindlessly moving – chaos operating the base level mechanics of existence for this brief walk between worlds. It’s a distance, a vibrancy, a feeling like there’s no earthly way to contain nor release all the energy accumulating in ones spirit – the body radiating with spirit; creative, nurturing, moody, watery; The High Priestess; sorcery beyond the comprehensible; silver, iridescent, omnipresent – if there were a word or phrase to encapsulate all these things…

“I feel like I’m tripping,” I said, reverent under the silent effects of a full moon in Sagittarius, defining the feeling came as a revelation. Last night the rest of the world was prepping for parties, car accidents they didn’t know they’d have, emotional run ins, fall outs, over consumption, overflow – I opted to avoid it all, the people, the parties. Instead, I put to use the tools acid had given me, identifying, learning, and settling into the power of the lunar event about us.

Full moon nights are like this for me. The eb and flow of feels consumes me and I become something like a werewolf who’s only duty of the evening is to avoid mutating. Personal preservation and safety become my top priorities. I secluded myself and wait for the sediments of my former self to settle; wait for the creative outburst. Waiting through it is key. Still very wolf-like inside my skin, I center in my feels, breath deep, sleep soundly, and hope to process all what occurred in the subconscious sometime, later.

A dream I had recently went against this urge to stay inside. In it, I thought I could handle social events under a full moon; went out with a few friends and end up ripping them all to shreds – blood glinting on large white teeth and claws, dripping from my matted fur, congealing under the indifference of city street lights. As a werewolf, I felt guilt, horror, and regret in strict conjunction to the lust of blood and murder. Hence, trusting ones intuition on a full moon night – also key. Mine said to go on a lone bike ride at dusk.

A light rain cooled the air, made the concrete smell fresh, damp; the skies were calm and welcoming. I pedaled down the river-walk and wove my way through people I trusted because they too were out on an evening like this, cleansing their souls under the same rain, the same billowy clouds lined in orange, pinks, and vibrant lavender. Never have I seen a more photo-esque sky, yet I’d chose to leave the camera at home. True experience can never be felt looking through the other end of a lens.

Stopping on the river walk somewhere near a view of the Renaissance Center and the sea green steeple of some distant church, I couldn’t remember the last time I starred at the sky or listened to the world around me free of digital devices or connections that never really connect. That sky was love, I felt safe under it. That full moon made the world new again and I felt blessed to be alone and noticing.

But I’m losing it now, the effects fading. It’s past noon and I can feel myself coming back, the me I carry daily, this heavy body, this over-thinking brain. The words are slowing. I’ll share this with you now, re-read it and wonder from what secret deep it came. I’ll miss the me I was only moments ago. I’ll miss the moon.

When there’s something to write, I never think about it, I just do. What I think about is when I’m not doing it, but it’s like I’m always waiting on the moon, my muse. Isn’t that life though? Like, I’m always waiting for something – this coffee to cool, my heart to stop hurting. It’s never going to change, is it? And yet, we all keep moving because cycles are ritual. Yes, I do see the value in ritual. I live mine by the phases of the moon.

Before I go, I’d like to share this with you, too.

The other day while snipping parsley for a salad, I snipped a lady bug in two. I had to sift through the salad to find its severed body. I’m still not sure why that made me feel so odd. Currently, I’m slicing the meat of a mango. Large pieces wiggle in my fingers and when I place them in my mouth they slide down my throat like an oyster. Thinking of mangos and oysters as one in the same makes me feel funny.

What do you make of these funny feelings? Sometimes I feel like I may wait forever to gaze at another and trust in love enough to describe how thinking of mangos and oysters as one in the same makes me feel more connected and severed than ever before. Sometimes I feel like I will never love or trust in another as much as I love and trust in the moon, or that another could never love me as much as that sky last night. I tell you I heard it whispering my name, kissing my forehead, telling me the universe will forever have my back.

I wonder who out there felt that, too.

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“And all of this stuff will break me, don’t break me…” Musical selection is my latest addiction: Litany – Flaws

NaNo Update/ Life Update

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I’m going to try and make this brief because I know I’m not the only one feeling a little unhinged today and I really just want to go outside and do something physical to make me feel more grounded.

These energies that popped up today, The Star card (which I spoke on in a previous post) and the King of Swords are helping me describe the feeling in the air, but it’s still hard, it’s like, the highly metaphysical and the highly logical are walking side by side, afraid to look at each other, afraid to understand each other. THEE dream, your ultimate dream is in sight, but it’s like, you’re still in this position where you KNOW you have to be highly logical about your next steps- a bit cold and calculating, a bit mean and offish but it’s because you’re just trying to HOLD IT ALL TOGETHER MAN.

Like, that’s YOUR DREAM right there, The Star, you manifested it, this is YOUR WISH, but you’re a little miffed at it, like it showed up early to the party. But the Star is not early, it’s RIGHT ON TIME, and that notion makes you feel excited and scared and you don’t WANT to feel excited and scared right now, dammit, there’s work to do.

Know that it’s the nature of the unknown which makes us feel vulnerable and that it’s totally OK to feel vulnerable. It’s a necessary step.  It means you’re ready for the change.

I mean, The Star is over there just free and naked and like, super calm about it and you’re all like, I can’t get there with you yet and you’re making me nervous with your beautiful magical presence.

You know this is a delicate period, that to complete the process, to fulfill the wish, one needs to be careful, make smart moves, stay on task and that there’s still so much work to do if that dream is to become a reality. IT’S RIGHT THERE, but you’re trying real hard to be that King of Swords, to stay on track, stay focused, to not humor the fanciful feelings just yet.

To bring this back to the writing process, I seriously almost bailed on the NaNo project this week. There were two or three days there that I didn’t write anything at all and I thought I’d have to write a post about my failure, which would have been fine. Failure is fine. But then I had a few awesome conversations with some friends and it got me thinking- what do I REALLY want, what was the dream? And, is that dream going to happen if I don’t push myself to the limit? No. It won’t.

I wanted to go back to working on From the Other Seat. I’m itching to keep chipping away at that edit, but I also know I need a new project, a strong project with a strong foundation to be there waiting for me when I hit a wall with the memoir, and the wall WILL happen so I want to be prepared. Also, I have grand visions of taking a trip to Poland this spring and to work on this new book while I’m there and this is totally contingent on the fact that I have something really tangible started. I want to just be filling in plot holes when I get there and editing and… god, I’m rambling.

My biggest problem with the new project is while I made a loose outline and a character sketch, getting from point A to Z has been a real challenge. I’m a very literal person and taking on a fiction and setting it in a place I’ve never been…. well, I’m struggling with it. So I’m putting aside all environmental descriptions right now and just focusing on the emotional meat of the story because… emotions are my thing. I know how to write about those.

Anyway, this is getting long. On top of all this book writing, I’m also trying to carve a path for myself in my freelance writing in music and what not… and so… it’s been a trying time to fit all this in and know which projects to focus on more at any giving time; where to put the brunt of my energies. So… yeah, I got to be this King of Swords even though my dream, The Star, it’s right where I want it. There’s still so much… so so much to do.

Stay focused everyone. I’m going to go cut the grass. It’s beautiful out.

Musical selection this week is by Jay Daniel a young Detroiter who embodies these logical-dreamy energies. He’s releasing his debut album at the end of the month. The album is called Broken Knowz and it drops via Technicolour Recordings. Be well, love often, and enjoy!!

 

 

 

Rai Knight – Persistence (Official video)

Persistence from Rai Knight on Vimeo.

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