gapeseed
“Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.”
Queendom
The smoke has blown to the east—a sign of new beginnings. Death is the creation of time; this is my lock in Tantric philosophy. I question everything I see. Sight does not land in the body as elegantly as sound. Ganesha held the wand all morning for me; my palms were too full of salt and sorrow. I wish you could join me at the alter and watch the coils move upwards into the ether; the spread of smoke against the orange light is exquisite. My space is ripe with the blessings I send outwards. My ribcage is the only container I accept without question.
A slight breeze carries cues from the yoga class from the terrace to my bedroom. The classes are taught in French, yet I understand the shapes through familiar syllables. Trikonasana; the angle for the Holy Trinity. I fast to fill my body with forgiveness. Auspicious symbolism appears everywhere- even the cockroach that fell into my hair had something to express. Cockroach creativity; where there’s a will, there’s a way. The bug had hidden in the doorjamb, tucked into the triangles carved into the wood. It sounded like an eggshell bursting against the floor as I brushed the thing from my body to the ground. It's long antennae searching for a secret spot to fold itself. I opened the door and showed it out.
The daylight burst with shadows that spiraled into the night, and I drew the curtains tight to the edges of each aperture. I created the closeness I craved through crevasse and seam. I layered grey over white and painted my face gold. I lit wand after wand of incense and drew circles around my body. Each ring rippled outwards into the unreachable areas of my mind. Sensible presence; I dance to uphold my dharma. The archway of my life creates the setting of what is appropriate and plausible. I fantasize about freeing myself of the contrived and controversial. The wands recast as ashes, and I wrote my name in the soot. Stephanie means 'Garland' in Hebrew. My queendom is gold with leaves that never wither.
And as She sat down with Her back to the door, the contact of Her body against wood brought down the bugs.
Photo source.
