A First Yes // A Yes, First.

... what follows below wrote itself mostly prior to my first mind-body-reconnect session three days ago, a single hour that kinda turned the whole world upside down for me.

So, whenever I post "older" writings now, those from "before", they'll not necessarily wholly represent where I'm at now. Then again, that's probably true for a lot of what was ever made. It's just that — I am already somewhere else in the moment I release it. Anyway.

Regarding that MBR-magic unveiling My Life — Obviously I do need to practice stuff, and help the newborn trust grow, and so on.

Still, a radical, essential shift has happened already, and I am sensing forwardest to one day trying to put it all into (a digestable and actually serving amount of) words, and to sharing the universal key that it is.

Until then, voilà:

~

A First Yes // A Yes, First.

I'm finding myself caught

in this reflex-assumption,

this reflex-reaction of No.

It Should Not Be Like This.

in the sense of:

Things Should Have

Happened Differently.

That notion's pretty much a prison,

shutting me out and cutting me

off of What Is Actually Here

(or, I guess, Anywhere).

— I'm waking up at an hour I deem

suitable only for sleep, and although

I Should Be Used To It Given It's Been

Like This In 99% Of Nights For 13 Years

Now, I still am instantly frustrated, disappointed, feeling like

I failed (again).

I Should Be

(Capable Of)

Sleeping Right Now.

That Dream Should Have

Not Been Dreamed.

And This Heart Should

Not Be Racing.

... well, now that it is,

I Should At Least Be Able

To Move And Hug Myself,

To Lay A Hand Onto My Chest,

To Slowly, Slowly, Slowly,

Slowly, Slowly Make It

Stop.

I'm hearing the beautiful birds sing

their early morning symphony,

while a constant shield of

(formerly unconscious)

thought is keeping me from

really, truly hearing them:

I Should

Have Learned

(And Remember)

Each One's Songs.

I Should Know Their Names.

A car is driving past and

It Should Not Be Driving Past.

Is it maybe a Ford????

... thus

I am lying here,

this mind a magnet

to a million ways that

ultimately lead me back

to some old version of this:

My Life Should Not Be As It Is.

It Shouldn't Have Been As It Was.

A trillion triggers

preserving trauma,

each one met by the

automatic

No.

I Should Not Be Feeling This.

All Of That Should Have

Never Happened.

My More-Than-Messy

Biography Is A Mistake.

(As Is, Of Course, So Much Of History,

And The Whole World's State At Large.)

I know of the immeasurable

importance of imagination.

I know it is crucial to be thinking

differently to how things are

in order to be able to change any

of — or be grateful for! — them.

I know.

But what is needed at

the very beginning of each

No. This Doesn't Have To Go On,

what is needed before every

No. This Mustn't Be Repeated,

No. This Can't Be Reproduced

is a

Yes.

is an

It Is Like This Now.

is a simple (≠ easy)

We Are Here.

And That Happened.

Yes. There's Injustice.

Yes. We Are Hurting.

Yes. Life Is Difficult.

Yes. We Will Die.

What I find is

that when I am

allowing truths to be,

inviting myself to be

with them without

reflexively

rebelling,

(or: when I am

welcoming that, too),

RELIEF lets me

breathe again.

The shield that is

the constant tension

thinning for a second.

A window appearing in the

wall around this busy attic of

a bird (=thought) filled mind.

That window opening.

Pressure lowering.

My formerly clenched

muscles' hum quieter.

For a brief moment, I am

lifted out of tunnel vision

that I considered the norm.

(... Well, since this culture that

we're breathing, this culture

that nursed us and surrounds

us, that envelops us — since

this culture is showing the very

same symptoms; being, at it's core,

cut-off and disconnected, narrow-

sensed and hard of listening,

it's not that astonishing to feel

like tunnel vision is default.

At any rate: )

For just a moment,

when I say

oh, hello you.

Yes, You Are Here.

I Am With You.

... anxiousness loosens her tightened

grip around my insides and my outsides,

and I'm free to imagine with this whole

darling body a dear life that is actually

lived.

We are here now.

All of that happened, yes.

And we are here, now.

We are here now.

We are here.

We are.

O u i .