Wednesday, March 24, 2021

5am Inspirations 2021

dumpster diving
for true love
you ought to get cleaned up now

For a long
time I thought I had to match
what I made on the other side
to this side
for balance, for beauty.
Today I saw that one
side is already its own fractal.
Happy New Year.

Thank you for showing me how rude I've been to myself. Thank you for telling me I deserve better. Your ways don't always look straightforward, the events have gotten violent because I couldn't hear you when your voice was still soft. I get it now. It's all for me and you. It's all from me and you. They're short, yet very powerful, these 100 years. I can wait to be fully you again. I can create Your magic here. Our magic. Now.

So much so much
I want to share with you.
And all while
watch your smile,
the sun rays you produce.
That spontaneous dance
you gift me
I will dance.

When the tears dried
It came to be:
the choice is always here.
To laugh, be, eat, see, love
or not.
The most freeing of them all -
to live or leave.
Such sudden power.

I scroll and I scroll
and what do I see?
Judgments and creatures
crawling out of me.
Toki Pona, excitement,
discovery of self -
what a great Silk Road
we've all collectively made.

I'd molded myself
to make someone else comfortable,
It didn't do either of us
any good.

Логос и хаос,
аккорд без терции...
Жизнь и смерть,
человек и искусство.
Волна должна совпасть.
- Казиник

Tea is a pause
in which
to see
all that I am
for & against
the ebbing of my life

I did something I thought I never could
And the clouds started to move the other way.
I am alive without belonging to any thought.

I said, no more fires -
I made a mistake.
I'm gathering fears, black
ripping away,
setting myself ablaze.
Not everything we lose
are desires.

The new up-and-coming
is slinging drugs on the side
to fathers.
Tears of
signs of
I bet my all on biased numbers,
I lost it all.

Timid souls hiding in the day
behind collections
of books, clothes, dinner plates.
Coming out at night
to play
on the astral plane.
Feeling like they're standing
in front of a door,
a breakthrough the next day.
Eternal souls
having some horseplay

I created this, therefore I can change it.

Changes are so swift
I'm enjoying cracking them
open, daily.
The insights, comings-to,
nothing is lacking.
I'm loving this view,
no bragging.

Our human advancements
set us back.
Sshhhh, listen,
isn't it fascinating?

She dips her demitasse
into my bowl,
scooping tea.
May my vessel be always
full. For her.

I said, enough! I put the hat
They all blew up, another layer
No harm to anyone.
And now I can say my
whenever I so beau

I dreamt last night to the full Moon
that I walked away from abuse
and darkness.
Drew a different circle,
I made love to Music & Science,
I was caressed by Art, Strength,
I saw how deficit, defeat and loss
were left red-eyed,
half-naked, disoriented, behind
in that old apartment building
where my car lost its flywheel.
Everytime I get used to amazement
Amazement wildly gushes in.

Yes, I have fears.
Bêtes noires of being alone,
of being unsupported.
Why am I still afraid of that
which has already happened?
Fear is a self-realizing prophecy. It comes true as our wishes. That, which we are afraid of, is what we want, on the soul level. This game has high stakes, it's being played out in the Eternity. From the point of view of the Eternity, this physical stuff is secondary. Our eternal soul is what matters. And the soul will call. If I don't listen, the physical will start unraveling. How else can my soul get the point across? With disease, ache, pain, death of everyone around.
I woke up this morning, my first thought was "Yes, I have fears!" And once I accepted that, and took responsibility, my life unraveled some more, in minutes.
Today I am getting on the path of being the Creator. That's what my soul wants. "Create!" - I was told a minute later. Can't make this up. Let's play!

Behind the fog I see golden temples.

When in the midst of a huge life chaos of mine I decided to have children, I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking about how I was going to teach them to fly, to be themselves, to be happy. Now I'm forcing myself out of my skin to figure it out. I want them to pick up a piece of gravel off the road and turn it into a space rocket of the mind, into a cow, a pair of skis, a ticket, or an end to all wars. Because it's possible. Their Universe is not only endless, but it keeps expanding in its endlessness. They will never run out of amazement, they will never come to a stop. But I can't teach them in words...
Everything must change again.

Harvesting milk for tea in the dark
Twins playing with a golden Moon
a ship, fire clouds, party stars
birds and animals, fish, myths
no up, no down

The first time I leave the house as if I'm coming back, I won't.

I've shot all messengers from before.
Suddenly, I know what the messages are for,
where they came from, how they never stop.
Time to end the massacre.

These years of stress and flight, and fight
take toll,
form habits that fly out first,
no matter who's in front of you.
There's no other force that can compare
to a woman in distress,
for she'll destroy in fury the very things
that hold the world intact.
With quickness she takes out every
man, woman, dog
with every weapon that exists -
the tongue, the beauty, sword, a book,
a chair, if need be.
It's terrifying. In part,
because she will rebuild it all
with her own soul.
But now I'd like to learn
how instead of burying myself, the bodies,
I make things grow
in love
as first reaction
to the injustice
to my love.

Lost: tools for storytelling.
Backgrounds, ancient woods,
trajectories of love, stars, planets,
scales of dragons, fish, of music,
all waters of the Universe,
yours and mine moods,
maps, wings, and wishes,
all kinds of things that can unfold forever.
If found: look inside.

Snow and third birthday are here,
flowers, tea, chocolate are about to be.
And I'm years away, remembering,
snowed by everything,
dazzled by it all.

Watching fractals in the sky
Despite the mountain being tall,
despite dark clouds
the light is walking in.
Am I still looking at the world
with eyes of days gone by?

Dark outside,
the horizon is on its time.
Sparklers of ideas inside,
crafting my world

My tea is 42 second long.
I sip some after every thought;
my Vinyasa.

I love to play connect.the.dots with the Universe. I know in advance, of course, that they will all connect, just not sure how!

Instead of “How are you?” we should be asking: “What are you dealing with today? What are you struggling with?” Because I don’t know a single person who’s not hurting in some way. And I know we all want to be seen. Not many know or want to heal or go beyond the pain. I do. I see you. I can’t always acknowledge you because of my own. Pain is always speaking, it’s always telling you something, showing what the soul wants. If only you were cold or hot, but you’re just warm. Choose to live, like you did before you came in.
Вселенская любовь доступна каждому. Надо только ей открыться. Она вливается в нас каждую секунду. А мы способны её взять и показать другим: через слова, руки, через музыку, поступки… Это и есть наше предназначение. Это помощь другим; через свою щедрость мы познаём и исцеляем себя, и Вселенная через нас познаёт себя. И получается так красиво!

I was little. I said: "I want to love everyone." And the Universe replied: "Here." and when I grew up gave me assholes, rapists, narcissists, addicted, afflicted, suicidal men and women, and those who simply couldn't care. "Love them," - she said. Why did she do that? So I could learn to love myself first.

I want snowdrops and lilies of the valley
to bloom everywhere I go,
everywhere I am,
to hold me in a hug
of the Universe.

If I could feel deeply enough
I would catch reflections before
they solidify into events, into people.
They'd be like lace veils
that I could see through -
movable, liftable, wrappable.
And then I'd dance behind
into a different world
and I'd come back
to feel

I admit, it's nice when people don't know you well enough to be happy to see you.
I admit, it's nice when people don't know you well enough and are happy to see you

I own the house that's in my heart,
I choose what goes in.

Things that change
your dreams,
the structure of your bones,
the sunrise mood,
the way you touch the world,
are coming.

Hair Oracle
I could chop it and leave.
Or leave it and stay
for a bit longer...

In wonder I watch how my gaze stops
at objects
and doesn't go farther.
Furthermore, neither does my thought.

For everything I feel,
there's always a "do":
For everything I think,
there's a "do", too.
Can't stop the motion,
But can I stop the doing?

I name my tea bowl Lady Danube,
for I dream it overflows with Matcha,
in all abundance, all desires, greed,
smiles, dancing, tears.
May all the things be done with Lady Danube
in my left hand.

Looking up from 38 at 88 I say, "Hello,
Cepheus, Bears, Cygnus... I'm waiting
for the false dawn, am I too early?
What number are you, Com? I'm one
of two, I'm also one and only, one out of
eight billion...
Why don't you say anything?"
"You are Eternity."

Some days I feel like my child is smuggling milk into the Universe, she drinks and drinks, and drinks... Some days I know I'm smuggling milk in from the Universe, to fill her need.

Nahuatl coyotes singing outside,
They kept their accent, still, after millions of moons.
Celebrating in the night, there are many gathered.

Было бы у меня время проанализировать текущую жизнь, я бы, наверное, ужаснулась. Но меня спасают дети, от излишней умственной деятельности...

To go to the party I must sneak out through the window, from my kids, partner; walk quietly in the woods, in full costume, be picked up on a dark side road; smoke a samokrutka with an awesome human, turn music up, boom! Boom!
I'm thirty seven... not seventeen...

I have many ideas, but I don't know physics, is what my dad says. And so there they are, hanging motionless, breaking rules of the Universe.

Moonlight came in through the window and into my dream. I looked at the source. Moon marbles reflected me back to me.

Nature's gray this time of year stands out, brings balance, takes away the minus. My kids' pink reminds me of confidence and mission, orange brings everything together. I'm painting with nitrogen, and that's how things flow.

My eyes open like the gates of the dam lifting up, flooding with thoughts. 'morning.

Скрипичный Ключ
The door has been crying, it wants to be an opera singer. I didn't really gave it much thought at first, shared some hyaluronic acid, thought it was an appearance complex. Now it's high notes, shredding my morning peace. I need to find a lending ear, a tutor, comforting grease. Maybe a YouTube video of other doors' dreams.

I've arithmomania. I see you, I count you, can't hide behind an angle. But next time I see you, I don't remember you much.

You know, I'm going to amend 24/7 to 24*7. And then occasionally I'll throw 168/wk in there and here.

One never really knows what can be found under a kid’s blanket in the morning: a lego piece, a puddle, a lighter, a glow stick, a guitar string, a tangled dream? A love confession, a warm hug, tomorrow’s crumbs… I don’t know how they do it, this weaving of above and below into my smile.

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