My proverbial question. Why? So often coming back to it. Why in one instance does ease flow, allowing peace and silence to enter? A communing between “self” and “non-self” that is as involuntary as sneeze. And in most others, a stiffness and a wanting.
It seems to be an issue of porousness and letting go. How to maintain porousness without leaving oneself vulnerable and open to the gulls that could peck one’s underbelly to bits?
I am like the moon, waxing and waning. Ease, dis-ease, peace, strife, releasing, holding.
This week I am sucked into my tenth house habit, evidenced by shorter missives. But soon the paint will arrive. And when I paint walls I enter into a process trance. Enter into my fourth house.
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