life goes on

Once upon a time, I remember feeling like I didn't have any friends - and I didn't. I was nineteen and living on my own for the first time ever and, although I lived with a best friend who was very social, my life felt devoid of intimacy. It was a sad recognition. One that didn't change a whole lot for years because it was hard for me to bee present - to let go of either my past or a perceived future. One decade later, and my situation had improved only by little - I was in a second, long-term relationship and I enjoyed a handful of close confidants. Still, I could count my intimacies on two hands. I felt isolated and bored - even though my friends have always been a diverse group of humans. DANCING IN COMMUNITY CHANGED ALL OF THIS. Getting out of my head and into my body; allowing my full self expression to flow without too much fear; and expending a lot of time reveling as well as communicating in innocence and joy with myself and Others brought into my life what I have, ultimately, always wanted - which is sweet connections of varying depths with a multitude of people. Brother B. stopped in to the store today. Yesterday, I was reminded of the Owl ceremony we had at Las Raices when one of our old house's new inhabitants became my customer. She came in to purchase Goddess pendants for a group of women she had worked with at San Marcos State. Meanwhile, brother B. stopped in with his sweetness dripping. "This One has many fans," he said to my boss, as my cheeks grew rosy. Later in the afternoon, a new friend "randomly" stopped in to say, "Hey, I just added you as a friend on Facebook." "Awesome," I responded. He asked if we had any Ankhs in the store when, only moments before, I had just unwrapped a set. Akmenaten & Nefertiti founded monotheism - n ow those are some mighty big shoes to fill. So, I come home to a house full of women buzzing and preparing for a Friday night. Kicking my feet up, I lounge comfortably in our small craftsman house. Soon, L. has returned from a failed attempt at going out. She needed an emotional release instead and I noticed how long it took for me to get present to her and her needs. Finally, I came to my senses. "I can do a better job at being a sister to you," I told her, as she openly wept for life's injustices. "It's not fair," I agreed, as I sat on the end of her bed, gently rubbing her arms. Story is what it is... tales to bee told because life always goes on. Imagine, however, the symbols and metaphors used to do the telling lasting for thousands of years. IMAGINE.