limb to limb

hard and soft / rich and poor / empty and filled
stripped bare yet protected.
all these things i struggle with, yet celebrate. i see that tree in the neighborhood completely uncovered, i see right through it, and it lets me see more of the sky and what lies beyond, tho in the months that it's green and full i notice the actual thing itself supporting life and I may only look at what's there.

so there's that. i feel lately as i slip and slide between really feeling what i'm capable of and actually owning it, that the dichotomy between my desire and my power rises up to challenge me. The fact that i struggle with it, wrestle with what i perceive as the gulf between the power and the desire, only makes it that much more real that it exists. I've never felt so full of myself and possibilities and happiness, while still so unsure of what's around the corner. I know, i know ... this is the point. the dance i've been twirling around for the last year (plus) as i've been writing words on this blog situation. but, hey, a girl needs to remind herself every once in awhile (OK, a lot) that just because i had a kick-ass dance last week, there's no guarantee of anything near that happening the next time...or maybe it will. When i leave the studio or the apartment or the office, I walk my walk differently every time. Nothing is as it's been before. there's no telling that the passion i feel looking into a pair of eyes this morning is going to hold the same intensity the night that follows, but trust that those eyes will still be there to look into, there just may be a different view. and that's actually a good thing. that's the point i think ... maybe even the beauty. i'm sure we'd all just flame-out into little green spots if we lived in that intensity all the time.

and the fact(?ha) is: i'm scared of not holding the eyes of intensity in a steady gaze because my ego whispers in my ear that if i blink first, all that passion will disappear—as if that's the thing that rules me. me of little faith in space and what lies between. what exists in the dark. my sense that i can control anything, that somehow doing it on my own is a brave thing, when in fact it isn't courageous at all. What is, i'm finding, is to stay with eyes wide open, aware of the who around me, bare yet full, being seen through while still very much present. the hard, soft, rich, poor, empty, filled moments touching me over and over without me losing sight of what i have to offer inside of that. and so it goes.