8 F Y R E ' B I R D 8

4.12.20 who i have been, and who i will become, hovering in this present moment like the humming bird i saw quivering outside of my window this morning. humming birds, in their beingness, remind me of joy, joy perhaps at the arrival of spring, or joy for no reason at all but just because.   i’m learning to relax my shoulders. as i’m learning to relax my shoulders, i’m learning to also let go of what is not mine to carry and leave the responsibility of changing others behind. it’s not my responsibility to change how others will navigate this moment, or the next, or how we will even transform society together. it is more about: me, being me, and changing myself, for that is really the only thing i have control over, and if that inspires someone else, me being me, than so it is.   to be on earth in these times. i do feel that i chose to come here for a reason, and i can feel the ancestors hands beckoning, and i feel the weight slide off as i remember bayo’s words: ...

tonight, i am choking up a fire, tonight the water in me burns and somehow this happens, inside me, making no sense, making only the sense, the sense ripped away from my lungs, my body decaying, how can i hate you and love you both at the same time, paradoxes dwell in me, i suppose this is like when traveling the rocky road home (to oneself) i tell myself to comfort as i push my foot farther down my own throat, yearning for some kind of intensity, some kind of relief from the pain of missing you, of missing me, of not knowing if i can trust myself on the night rides home, always knowing that i can trust something like my capacity to feel such extremities, such extreme seas, always getting closer to the one who i call Mars in me   tonight, i am remembering warmth and my ability to move with it, to move with the raging rivers in me, and not be drowned, somehow keep my head above water, my ear cocked to the horizon, knowing whispers that remind : hiding my queerness is survi...

Summer now feels like a faraway dream.   My body is becoming used to the cold, constricting feeling of Fall. The sharp turn of temperature that makes me contract. For very long I have been taught that to contract is a sign of weakness, is “bad”. I do not see this as true anymore. Contraction is a natural cousin to expansion. They need one another.   Whenever I experience a full-fledged expansion, where my wings are full spread and I am offering myself to the world with a lot of generosity, I know that there will come a time when I will curl back inside myself again, and retreat. Being mentored by the cycles of nature have taught me this, as well as being mentored by my own inner cycles, of blood, of energy, of emotions.   This summer was very intense on my body. My nesting partner and I moved out of our home, and we also traveled a lot. Neither of us particularly enjoyed this. There was also family griefs we were moving with and a whole year of feeli...