pazza di te
“I always want to go darker, and I’m always being advised to stay on the lighter side.”
Dear Anias,
Womb of brick and plastic. Walls that reflect the sun. When the sky is blue, I can see through the beams. Crumbs on the floor and smudges on the pillowcases. It's better to be left in the dark.
My skin is leeching toxins. I read that fasting causes a heightened release of sebum, the goo that helps the skin stay hydrated. My face is red and sticky. I didn't have many pimples in my youth.
Last night I dreamt that women lost the right to birth control worldwide. I had been swimming belly up to the sun and felt water moving in and out of my ears. I couldn't hear the horns blaring around me. I wanted to be deaf. To control the pain. To deal with the difference in duty: this being a woman.
Why was I born into this body? I have asked many times this past week and received nothing as a response. Do people understand that the Holy Books were written by men who encroached upon madness? Clara says it's all about timing.
Right place, right time, my love.
I don't understand our species and will stop poking holes in the discourse. The only way through is acceptance.
To tolerate others in their pretty perspectives of the world. Many are content to look out at what has been created. Look, there's the sun; it's rising. And the moon, it is waning. The stars are falling. A sky that reminisces and mountains that never give up!
Projection is best with nature. She is strong enough to bear the force of human negligence.
Piety is a word that keeps coming to me. The quality of being pure. The act of being devoted. It is such a delicious word; say it out loud. It is magnificently contained. It sounds like a prostration. Palms to the earth, forehead on the ground.
It first showed up to me when I was walking through the colosseum ruins in the center of Nimes. Two weeks ago. There are statues of naked figures with their palms at the throat of large dogs. Men, mostly.
My face is so oily, Anias. My hands feel orange.
The second time the word appeared was in a podcast episode on the history of Ramadan. The third was in an article about the Nine Gates.
Piety is a belief that is accepted with unthinking conventional reverence.
Unthinking. Conventional. Reverence.
Three words should never be strung together in such a way!
If a person is not thinking for themselves, this merely means that someone else is doing it for them. The world we share revolves around control; the evolution of our species is adjusted based on this power.
Striving for control over honesty, integrity, compassion, and patience is what the majority is seeking.
You are aiming at the wrong thing.
In my dream, I was visited by friends from my past. People who'd lost control of their lives owing to their habits.
This is where we have some authority, the actions that construct our day-to-day rhythms. How I breathe, what I eat, what I drink, and my attitude toward my work, relationships, and community. It's not about what I do; it's my approach and practice.
Yoga has shown me that the only thing I have control over is my thoughts and, to some extent, my actions. I must do some things; how I do them is up to me.
A perspective is a choice; a philosophy is a consious process of designing an outlook of yourself and the world.
Now I am speaking of the Yamas and Niyamas.
Clara says the philosopher will always protect themself before they do the community. It is the ethical dilemma of Self versus Other.
My question is, what are you protecting? Are we speaking of the soul? What are the values and beliefs of the commune? I disagree with most people and have to step back and evaluate if it's the rebel within me or if it's simply because I find that people ridiculous.
It is both, of course.
I cleanse my face morning and night with the Dr. Loretta soap and facial cream I was gifted. The cleansing soap is in a tall white bottle that pumps from a little spout. I use a little red cloth and lukewarm water. The moisturizer is in a small green pot. It is a marker of my day, a new ritual I've undertaken.
During Ramadan, participants are meant to use the time to speak with God. The moments that were previously spent eating are to be filled with prayers.
I wash my face. I floss my teeth. I scrub my toes and consider my hands. I take care of my person. I dust the shelves and draw the bedding tight to the edges of the wooden frame. I've lined my earrings up just so on the white armoire. Sometimes I sit in front of the mirror and take in the shape of my body.
Vainity is for the living. Why would I consider the Goddess in those spare pockets of my day? She is not here. She cannot do the domestic duties that sustain my possession here and now. I have a responsibility to myself as much as I do to the Goddess!
Each day I must write, clean, cook, massage my organs, strengthen my muscles, calm my nervous system, reach out to my friends and loved ones, work(!), consider where I have been, and perhaps daydream of where I hope to go.
There must be a balance in this offering to the Goddess and also taking accountability for the self. I can be devoted without a demand and pursue my own process.
You see, Anias, I do not follow anyone or anything without asking why I am doing the thing.
Who is this serving? Individuation is essential to identity. I understand the wisdom of my body, though it is the thought process that determines the action.
I surrender to the Goddess with my palms to the floor, though I am also consious of the fact that the person who rises is me. No one else will stand up for me. No one else will feed me, bathe me, clothe me, or provide me with a home. It is up to me to take care of myself.
The Goddess exudes love; I feel my belonging through Her. However, it is I who acts at the end of the day.
Who is this I, and why is she a woman?
This is my question for meditation. I am returning to where I was two weeks ago with Georgina. The origin story.
My dream kept me contained in the womb of the sea. Bobbing lightly in a purple swimsuit, my hands and hair floating in the periphery. I was empty, yet I felt the fullness of all the pregnant women. Those whose choice was taken from them.
Those who suffer do not do so lightly. Damn those who consume what is not theirs! How can people not see the slash on the soul when they take what is not willingly given?
It's the pain, Anias. To feel the truths of the spirit, you must go through the first layer, the body, where the discomfort resides.
And this is simply too much to bear!
Fasting as I am is showing me how deep my cravings are rooted in my being. I am hungry all the time. I cannot shift this obstacle, not for the next twenty-eight days. The only way to do it is to give my ails to the Goddess. Each time I feel angry, irritated, stuck, or ready to give up, I meditate on her. Sometimes standing upright with my eyes open and my palms clenched!
And isn't that the point?
To climb out from this plastic womb and return to the primal source of wanting.
Photo source.
