I’m home.

(Author: Scratch)

Today was the first day back to Miss Grey’s place in nearly two weeks.  So much has changed in her garden – what’s been growing and what has been removed – and it makes me smile to see things flourish.  Her garden is a metaphor that, over the last couple months, has served my own growth by acting as a mirror.  I’ve had my hands in its soil and been assisting in its care and health.  But the real growth has been in my heart and mind.

I was close to moving to Berkeley on the 7th of August.  I had become so frustrated with my city’s culture, borne mostly from the dominant religion’s influence, that I was ready to jump over Zion’s white picket fence and run.  My bank account was resting at a meager $1.55. I felt I had nothing to lose anyway.

My birthday party last Saturday proved to me that I had a lot more at stake.  Friends from all around the city, people I know and love, filled my back yard that night, drinking and cavorting, overlapping social circles in my life.  It was beautiful.  Each of them are seeds of the rarest kind that I had suddenly seen bloom in front of me.  To leave these people that I have been sharing so much of my life with, would be a terrible loss. There’s nothing wrong with digging my hands in deep, letting my fingers slip into the soil and take root.

~~~~~~~

I picked up the yoga mat again today.  It sat in the southeast corner of her living room, rolled up tight, waiting for me.  Holding it close to me, I smelled our sweat – mine and Miss Grey’s – intermingled in the royal-blue rubber mat.  I was overcome with emotions, feeling a closeness with my Mistress that ran deep, like an underground river.  Without making a sound, I unrolled the mat on her back patio made of bricks, and began my poses.

Miss Grey had graduated me from Her tutelage a couple weeks back, and I felt a little lost.  What would I do without my teacher?  The only response in my mind, from the Master within, was to continue with what I had been taught. “Ground your thumbs,” Miss Grey would command in my mind as I rested in downward dog.  “Push your palms out flat, press your heels toward the floor and dig your toes into your mat.”  The blood would rush to my head and I’d breathe deeper.  I was grounding myself, sweating and pressing into the earth below me.

God, it’s good to be home.

Drip.

It’s a quiet friday afternoon… Alone but not lonely. Sitting. Staring at the computer screen. Wanting to write without really knowing what to say. Or maybe knowing what to say and not knowing how to word it right.

Life has been going full force for about six months now. And I guess now’s the time to catch a little breather.

Owl and Squirrel found a place together, and Owl moved out last week. She took the doggie with her, and her two cats. The pet front has been busy despite the loss. There’s been the addition of a puppy.

Oh yes, puppy. And she’s an amazing bundle of energy. Kafka kitty is starting to adjust, not bad for week one.

My significant Other has moved in.

… so my day swept me up and this is all the writing I’ve done. Guess something is better than nothing.