acknowledge the cycles (a blessing)

much of this life of mine has been filled with the powerful and sometimes painful ability and desire to remember it all. to hold on to moments, and memories: through the written word, through stories, through vivid imaginations. this has been my way of being. at times it has felt paralyzing, but now, it feels like such a gift. 

i love how i can truly witness the cycles of my life, with gentle non-attatchment. i watch them like smooth river, smooth rocks. i see growth and change and everything in between. 

i look back 10 years and it is so clear to me how i have changed. i am a woman now, with stronger carved cheeks, and a steady gaze. my voice comes from deep in my core when i remember. i feel it vibrating through my belly, my being. so much novelty has resumed to be life. no longer felt with a punch in the gut. this is simply life. 

i wake up, i pack my lunch. i forget it. ter brings it down. i drive my car to studio. i am there for three hours, i see jessi, kristen, delaney. drink tea. resist the chatter. i drive to san jose, i see my whole family. i hold a two year old, i put on her shoes, take them off, also two times.

i pray for my grandfather. i smile and hug the elders. i feel sticky, uneasy. i drink two cups of chai. my body feels itchy. i drive back to studio. i descend into my work in deliberate silence. it is beautiful and organizational and complete and powerful. i feel so close.

boyfriend is on his way back. eta 11:30. i question if i will want to see him. i leave studio at 11:15. i get home. he says he is close, do i want a ride. might as well i think. i take shower and enter his car, full of materials of a journey.

i had been in his bed two nights before. it felt like a lifetime for both of us. our bopping souls. they found eachother in stillness. he is in awe. baby baby baby. i am at ease.

we sleep. we wake. we combine. i ask him if he likes his mother. she has fascist tendencies i find out.  

we sip coffee. i watch him stretch. help him roll his socks. tuck his 2 suits in a carry on. 

i walk home and he says his flight leaves in an hour. with ease i pick up my computer, put on blue pants, eat one slice of dry bread, cherries, bar. 

i am a getaway car. i drive boyfriend to the airport. i go as fast as i can. we listen to my mixtape. i'm singing. i give him sticker. he is 45 seconds late. 

i go to milbrae with a drained phone, find my way to hwy 35. make my way to foggy pacifica. the wind is clarifying, how is it always foggy there.  i take a selfie with tumultuous waves. text boyfriend: shes so prettty he responds. 

i sit in my car, i learn economics again, i write about the non-human entanglements of the bayfront. i go to the end of the fishing pier, i feel the ownership from the fisherman of that space. i do not go to the end. 

i feel sleepy. i feel drained. i eat honey barbeque chips. wipe crumbs on my pants. take a picture of the corroded pier. they have plans to adapt the crumbling sea wall. i am grateful to study what i do. 

rune sends me a podcast about the trickster. i listen driving home. under the bay bridge. i remember when dawson and i did acid in san francisco. in my golden chariot. driving through that bridge tunnel felt like a space ship back then. i do not wish to live in the city. i wish to be teleported in the tunnel.

the ease of this movement is simply a new state of being. i feel it floating. i feel in my awareness my body softening. both by myself and in his arms. 

long are the days when everything felt stuck like a frog in my throat, stabbing my chest,  cloudy in my mind. those same feelings still rise and fall but i seem to gaze at them like a loving mother. with a slight twinkle in the eye.

i will say it i will say it i will say it. i will speak it i will live it i with breathe it. i am it i am it i am it.