service journey - January 18, 2010
The juniper and the LED red lights.Burning on a hot stone. The stone chiding me about expecting anything different than a burn from it. It is animate yet it is still hot and a stone. Don’t get too close to a rattler no matter how spiritual you are. Then I’m a red hot dot, soon to become a red tearshaped balloon, feeling—empty and airy, out of control. A apple red balloon dangles long and thin from my being. A gigantic mobile carnival toy twisted into a lofty shape and left undone? Nothing is as it seems, words are hot air. I focus on the thing I can’t explain which is not always useful.
Led lighting is in the flames in an open fire.
A controlled, comfortable descent from my cubicle at work with Nardine, my compassionate listener. Ten minutes going down. A hot swirling fireball of briefcases, books, chairs, people—half visible then consumed again. The fire has distinct tongues, flames that shape it, a swirling flaming nest.. You can follow the turning parts. It is painful even if I don’t want to believe it. Pain transforms. I can learn to watch and not interfere or deny that. Sideways to an endless black field with various fires, I only see the glow through the underbrush and trees. "Oh brother here I am at the Mankind Project. Can’t get away from choosing these angry men who feel entitled to lie and punish women. Why do we have to go back to tribal times? Not sure things were so great for women then." I’m afraid and begin to get moody. I decide to let go since I have to grow up and assert my own protection. I choose a fire and look closer. The people role over the fire coming out with their own unique scar. The sting is lessened by the communal feel. Everyone has a scar for all to see. We all witness. The pattern of behavior provides structure, safety. I stand with the wounded as the firelight flicks through the air. I feel connected. I feel commiserate. I feel we will all be ok. We are together. We belong.
I felt I it was important to own my experience no matter what at this circle. It is no longer socially acceptable to deny my vision.
Led lighting is in the flames in an open fire.
A controlled, comfortable descent from my cubicle at work with Nardine, my compassionate listener. Ten minutes going down. A hot swirling fireball of briefcases, books, chairs, people—half visible then consumed again. The fire has distinct tongues, flames that shape it, a swirling flaming nest.. You can follow the turning parts. It is painful even if I don’t want to believe it. Pain transforms. I can learn to watch and not interfere or deny that. Sideways to an endless black field with various fires, I only see the glow through the underbrush and trees. "Oh brother here I am at the Mankind Project. Can’t get away from choosing these angry men who feel entitled to lie and punish women. Why do we have to go back to tribal times? Not sure things were so great for women then." I’m afraid and begin to get moody. I decide to let go since I have to grow up and assert my own protection. I choose a fire and look closer. The people role over the fire coming out with their own unique scar. The sting is lessened by the communal feel. Everyone has a scar for all to see. We all witness. The pattern of behavior provides structure, safety. I stand with the wounded as the firelight flicks through the air. I feel connected. I feel commiserate. I feel we will all be ok. We are together. We belong.
I felt I it was important to own my experience no matter what at this circle. It is no longer socially acceptable to deny my vision.