Sanctuary

I wish I had the time to write this down properly. I am sneaking a few minutes now, doing what I can. There's a good chance that it will be awhile before I can write to you all again. I will look for libraries, but the coming expanse is amazingly desolate.

I arrived at Seneca's and was drawn a bath by a fellow traveler; a beautiful woman. She lit a candle, drew the bath hot, and then left me to my own devices. The space spoke of a higher vibration. It felt good to find myself in community, and to accept some nurturing.

I have been in Berkeley for a long while now. Longer than I expected. I have sat in 113 degree water near giant backyard redwoods, walked naked on the earth, and wandered among silent friends and strangers. I have been treated as an equal, and as a saint. I have come together and unraveled here, all near or in the safety of the Creature House.

I want to speak in details, and instead I feel anxious, and unable to share at the moment. I want you to know that I have been safe here. That I have been in the company of simple magicks and good food. I have gone for long walks, slow and reading comic books along the sidewalks. I have been to the movies. I have fretted over my unique position in the world, and over my choices.

The house sometimes wakes into ritual, and I listen to the singing with a half sleeping heart. I do not wish to join them, and some mornings I withdraw into myself against the sweet morning sounds. At other times I listen to the humming, the morning stretches, a house waking together, and I bathe in the sweetness. I am, after all, a conflicted being... what else would draw me to such extremes of action. The choices I make on the day to day, feel largely out of my hands... that's been troubling me.

I came unraveled.... spent money foolishly on comic books and coffee. Walked sleepily along the streets, nose buried in a book. I lost myself in fantasy.

See the truth is... I could easily have become a shut in. The kind of kid that moves into mom's basement and won't leave. Addicted to World of Warcraft and assorted comics. I'm not above it. Here at the Creature House, I am in a world of contradictions. My own instincts.... the desire to vanish into the written word... art and music dissolving me completely.... held to light against a gentle and connected community. A place I can feel at home. A place where people are doing the work to come into their power in the world.

I don't know why I haven't completely lost myself. I learned at some point, to treat myself gingerly.... manage my little depressions with a certain amount of letting go. I let myself come apart at the seams, but I keep some central thread, tight and comfortably woven through my everyday life. I never let go. I am safe with myself somehow... and it took me a long time to get here.

It is hard to explain my happiness. I know that I am coming to a dangerous crux in my life. That I have to make a decision. A decision I made a long time ago. I am not concerned.

At the show the other night, here in the house... I was at my best. Channeling and sharing my art, my most healing magick. I felt powerful... always a terrifying proposition. After the show two boys are asking me to bless the records I sold them. To bless plastic, and technology. I am slightly horrified, and caught off guard. I hold the objects stupidly, then return them to their owners. This boy is in tears. I am just a folksinger.

I think I know that I will never be successful as an artist if I skirt around my "power"... My uncanny ability to channel my "truth" when I am at my best. If I skirt around it... try to just be a girl with pretty songs and a pretty voice... I inevitably fail. The act of making art is empty when you step outside of yourself. Plenty of people have been "successful" that way. They step gingerly around the center of themselves, the place where their art comes from.... dipping in their brush or pen. I have never been able to compel people from halfway in.

We are all deeply powerful. We are all deeply afraid. These boys, thinking that I am unique, look to me for strength when I have come to stillness for a moment. This is easy for them. It feels good. I wish they would stop.

Seneca notices that I want to escape the crowd, and she asks if I want to sneak out... We take a quiet walk, and I am again with an ally. We are so completely human. So incredibly small and simple. I am happy here, sharing my disaffections with Seneca in the starlight. I am so happy.

I read The Watchmen, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I read "Angel: After the Fall", and Fray. I watched Harry Potter, and Twilight. I wished I had a comic book collection.... then I started getting ready to get back on my bike.

There's this little problem. I hit my girl-part... God, there is no good word to use. If I say "cunt", my friends and community are comfortable, but I alienate everyone else. If I say "girl-part", some people aren't sure what I mean. And if I say "vagina"... I feel like a text book, and a person who doesn't think women are beautiful. So now you know what I'm talking about, alright? I hit my 'girl' on my bike seat on my last day riding. I am getting ready to leave.... and she still hasn't healed.

So I have been here longer than expected. I have been to the hospital, had this terribly painful abscess in a terribly sensitive place lanced. I am healing, and watching my body carefully. I have spent time lazily reading and taking up space at the Creature House, in the meantime. They kindly allow me to do so.

Last night we went back to Essex... where 30 years ago some people decided to open their backyard and 113 degree hot tub to the public. I was finally able to get into water again, and did so, under the moonlight. There are beautiful people stretching and silent around us. This is a silent space. We enter a little code at the gate.

I am spending time with my body here. Trying to find the fragile pieces of my spirit that will not inhabit me fully. We all tuck away. Stiff hips, hard heart, headaches... all of these things connected. There is an amazing integration possible. This one one of my favorite personal contradictions.

I drink coffee, I eat bread, I feed the beast and then I try to heal. I avoid vegetables and then live on kale, pray with every bite. I dream deeply into myself, and then I go shopping. Running in and out of deep water like a child at play. I don't mind spending my life like this. I don't think it's wrong, either. One day soon, however... I might just get brave.

I embrace the heat, breathe and stretch. A few days ago, we danced like wildfire and poetry... for the same reasons. Humans need shaking up. We need to be estatic.

Rebecca dances once a week. She rents a dance studio, and invites a few friends. I am lucky to meet people like her on my path. She lives here with Seneca, and the other creatures. A few days ago I went with her. I screamed and spun till I was dizzy. I shook and rolled and crawled and hissed. There is a wildness in humans.... I am sorry to imagine how few of us bother to explore it.

This whole piece is shifting. My body is almost ready to leave this place. I have so much work to do. There is more unravelling. There is more movement.

I am headed into the desert so soon, and while I am afraid, I am also craving the solitude. I would like to learn my place in this world, but I know that I am already serving life. The path we seek is the path we are on...

and so on I go.

.......

It may be awhile before I write again. It may be awhile until I hear your voice. Send me your little protections, friends, or just send me a kind thought. They travel well.