I woke up sad today. I have been so busy, and I am grateful for that. There was a time when my busy-ness (business, lol) would have felt impossible… to be doing what I actually love— with people who I feel are kindred, is such a deep privilege.
And also, when I was very young, and had little “going on” I would read and write and read and write, and conversate, and sit under the clouds, and just be quiet. (Listlessly wishing for some big important life, lol).
The joke is… that when you get what you think you want, you end up realizing that the true treasure is anything that allows you to access the space when you can hear and feel yourself, with no putting upon, with no imposition of a need to fully understand, and instead, simple be part of the quantum sea.
So today I remembered that I was a poet once, for a very longtime. Who did not like to say that because there was so much about the poetry culture, and how I perceived the poetry ‘scene’ that felt so deeply untrue to me. I wonder how many of us experience this… this throwing away of an entire swath of who we are because of the cultural smoke and mirrors all around its true and essential frequency.
The one who crafts but doesn’t want to be called a crafter.
The one who writes but doesn’t identify as a writer.
The one who games but isn’t a gamer.
And on and on and on…
So today, I am going to share with you all. I am a poet. I have always been a poet. I just don’t like sitting and listening to people read poetry. It’s not for me. I like sitting with the words like they are a children’s book and I am a child. I like holding the pages and feeling the swell of the strangeness of the land being made through the feeling of the words…
And so, here is a poem… and also, a link to the Mythical Map for May, the May Muse + the Mystery Waitlist…
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