That Cosmos

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The Quiet Beauty of Small Things

Today is slow, and inviting toward introspection. I have gratitude, for this time of year is for letting go, turning in. As an introvert, autumn turning into winter is my favorite time of year. It is natural to spend more time in bed, sleeping, reading, knitting or sewing.  It is a great time for journaling.

I can easily appreciate the small things I notice, the beautiful things I read, or hear or see. I find I have time to weave them all together, and psychically my world is a beautiful quilt of small victories.

The tree outside, from the view of my small back porch is orange and yellow dragon-fire right now. Its leaves rain down in bursts of wind.

I had homemade jam on toast at breakfast. Sweet and red.

Two nights ago I discovered that I can indeed attach the dead body of a moth or beetle with hot wax onto paper, and that the heat from the wax and candle does not burn up papery moth wings. New terrains in my personal practice of collage will be explored.

My most recent issue of Bitch Magazine came in the mail yesterday. Articles on video game gender-bending, witches hexing the patriarchy, and psychedelics as medicinal- all in one issue. I’m about it.

Also the library, treasure trove for rabid intellectual curiosity. It’s always there, just waiting to be consulted.

I found an old scarf I forgot I had yesterday. It’s made of wool-felted flowers. It’s really a wearable wool garland. I can drape flowers around myself, and just… walk around like that.

 

Small beauties, noticed, create a largely beautiful life. Sometimes, and indeed in these times,

this practice is more important than ever.

Gratitude for little things, in tandem with right action against oppression

create a Beautiful Life.

For in folding ourselves in beauty, we must not forget our world that needs healing. But more on that another time.

Right now, it is right and good to seek sanctuary in small and beautiful things.

 

 

I’m diving into these stories remembering the lives of people of color lost to police brutality and murder.
“Excessive force” is coming up a lot.
The need for a grown man trained in tactical police maneuvers to physically put his entire weight on a black woman of average stature, breaking her sternum and causing her death
can only be triggered by
either fear,
or lust for power,
or the intense combination of both, and more than those things.

All are heart and world- breaking.

We must socially conquer fear and lust for force. Power can be healthy, but a desire to use force and conquer is
antiquated.

The paradox lives on. And we do.

And if I scroll down far enough I can
click on an article called
“15 Child Stars Who Grew Up Hot.”

What, exactly, will happen?
Like, how’s this all going to go? How bad will it get before the getting gets
Good,
More toward compassion,
again?
I wish I could
Google that shit, but
Even the Cards only tell me what I’m willing to hear and
I’m not
Don’t want to
Crawl back in bed, hide behind my eyes,
Open wide.
Meditation is now
Observation.
Notice,
Take right action.

Radical Self-Acceptance

Since this past weekend I’ve begun to ask myself: what if I chose to love all of me, starting with everything about my body? I love my blonde hair. That is easy to love. My world and my culture make that easy to love. I love my fair skin. The culture I’ve grown up in makes that easy to love too. But then, how can I love my hormonal acne that pops up on my chin? Those red spots that fuzz my “fair complexion?” In what ways might I choose to love my tummy pouch, the bumps of hair trapped beneath my skin on my legs? I am pale, I am pink, and I am red. I am body, I am mind, I am spirit, and void. I have so much more in me than my external parts. And yet my physicality must relate to something else inside me, something beyond world physics- these are parts of my design that are sacred, even.

And in getting comfortable with my body I extend this comfort, this love and become comfortable with all of my prickly parts of Self. In what ways do I shrink and what do I resist? Which parts of me do I hide, and where do I compartmentalize? My inner Slut, my Judgement, Defensiveness. That fear of being or seeming selfish? Where does that come from? These are also spaces that need love. Shadow work tells me that therein lies my power, my light, too.

A very deep-feeling woman by the name of Carrie Hilgert (carriehilgert.com) once wrote that “To see myself in excruciating detail demands that I match that with absolute self acceptance.” And embodying that Virgin/Earth archetype how I do, an eye for detail I do not lack…

This morning I was really feeling myself. I chose not to wear makeup, just for today, warts (acne) n’ all. I’m kind of thinking this relates to my prayer from last night. I prayed to give less fucks about externally imposed standards, and more fucks about what needs to happen in this world, for Love.

So. That journey of healing to love all of me- that requires lots of self-knowledge. And this is not initially pretty. Radical self- love and acceptance, in one way and one day at a time, is that translation of judgement to healthy discernment. And that self-love translates to world love. WE, all of us on this planet now, need to be healed, and heal.

I think I might wear makeup tomorrow. And I’ll still be feeling into me.