renewal

The words don't come out easily. My fingers pressed against the borrowed keyboard trying to locate the rhythm, the cadence from soul to blog. Day five in Akumal, Mexico and I feel a stillness in my soul. I feel complete, I feel connected, I feel present. That is seemingly the best present I can give myself. Whenever I feel the sudden push of worldly irritation and the grunt of the ego waking up from it's nap, I resort to my "happy places." These are people, places, things that I associate with connection to the soul. The newest addition is my yoga teacher here in Akumal. Michael is free and in love with his practice. He is devoured in patience and care of each of his students and his love pours out in our poses. I don't feel anything when contorting my body in and out of poses it may not be use to. I feel the stillness in my chest, the chin lowering to the heart, the breath in each individual vertebrae. I give attention to every piece of this human contraption. I feed it love and nourish off the love it gives back.
I've encountered one person in my life recently that whenever they are brought up, whenever we are in contact with one another, I feel the tension rise from my toes to the arches of my shoulders. I have not yet found the most pleasant way to serve our friendship. Instead reeling back and forth from who I was to who I want to be.
I start to feel trapped, the lungs tighten, and the stillness runs a little blurred.
I envision Michael and hear him singing, "breathe,breathe, breathe.." The lungs open up, the air delicious going through the airways satisfying the space in the chest.
and once again, the stillness is pristine and clear.
Jason Mraz is also a happy place.
He is a giving spirit, full in his love and attention of the world.
I find a great deal of respect and admiration for soul whose hand I never shook.
He brings light to the connectedness that we all share.
That even if we are apart, we are all together.
I watch him on stage or listen to his voice to bring me back to that stillness when I seem to drift off in the other direction.

It is important to thank all the teachers in your life, all your loved ones, to be thankful for the opportunity to be in this human form.
It is truly a spiritual essence in a human experience.
I am grateful for these people, these places, these things.
Most of all I am thankful for inner self for having the courage to be who it truly is,
every single moment.

In love and joy,
L.

I don't know what I came here to write.  This journal has become dusty and the words have retreated back to the shelves for a couple month's worth of sleep.  Doesn't it always work out that way?  I indulge in the basket of words, cherish them, and create them again and again.  Creating entries, pages, of feelings that feel justified for the moments they are spread across the white page.  Only to fall back into confusion and the constant mumble jumble of the mind's tricks and seldom treats.  My skin is raw and the emotions are leaking through, looking for a release and the white page is here to collect.  I try to think of one-lined solutions, summing up the feelings of my soul in the least amount of words.  This is when I feel the words fails me and I feel overcome with sadness.  The release fades and the emotions build up.  The release I look for is in the grieving of my friend.  I am not angry that she is gone and I don't wonder why.  It's just that sometimes I can see her and hear her so clearly that for a moment lapse in my mind I forget that she isn't present in her skin.  The realization of the loss again crashes against me, sending the brain to paralyze the nerves, and my body starts to shut down.  I start to think of what I would say to a friend if they were present and the tears start to flow.  Hearing my voice choke out the words, "I feel like I just saw her, I can hear her, see her smile, and I realize over and over again that she's gone."  I stomach the text messages that say, "I don't think your ever going to stop missing her."  I flip back to old entries from days after her passing to only return back to the twenty-ninth of December and realize that yesterday marked the tenth month of her passing.  Where has time gone?  and how have we all changed since our last interaction with Monique?  I feel in most ways that I strive to be a person I'll be proud of.  To tap into my inner spirit and live life through my soul.  In instances, I feel her smiling at me.  In other ways, I feel myself more reclusive and quiet.  Losing my taste and appetite for all things that once brought me some warmth.  I don't understand how my body deals with grievance, I can only tune in to the sounds the soul makes when the mind sleeps.

These words are scattered and the fingers did not dare give the mind a chance to think through them before developing them.  I had to come here, I felt it.  My body craves the soft sheets of my bed, but my soul pulled me to this virtual white page.

The release comes even after weeks of a word drought.

I am being everything.

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