I need an ayahuasca enema. I need someone to finance a weeks long vacation at the Chateau while I process the Santa Ana winds. I need to throw my iphone into the sea and hold firmer boundaries. I need a man to follow me around playing the flute.
I have been irritatingly intuitive lately- but not in a fun way, in a tiresome, harrowing way. I have retractions from reality and then gasps of understandings, vignettes of the symbolic layers of this hologram. The mind-body-spirit complex. I’ve been trying to extract tendons of memories, cast people out of my field. Communicating with atemporal ghosts left in my body. Innadventartly hip deep in a shared subconscious, trying to seduce idiots out of ancient amnesia. Littered by old fingerprints, having ephemeral thoughts that brush against me like silver gnats. I feel like a volcano coming up from the sea, stirring up something hot and explosive, leading me to important pain. Holy alchemy. Sacred mischief.
It’s hard to stay soft when people are becoming computers. Hardening. The timelines are drifting further and further apart. People are thinking algorithmically, transactionally. Addicted to distraction. No one is witnessing their own emotional landscape anymore, and if they aren't witnessing their own emotional landscape, there's no way they gonna witness mine. How fucking blasé.
I love ruthlessly and with conviction. I am not afraid to make room in my heart for anything. I won’t bend, I won’t water it down or make it logical or compact or digestible. I’ll walk the hills at night, become my own witness, my chorus the unsettling Santa Ana winds. I am committed to what I came here to do, there's not really another choice but to surrender to the unfolding, to be a bit ahead and wait. Let go of the reins and trust what I know.