a throbbing full moon tonight and exactly one month ago i blogged in.
i have left so much empty space. maybe the war has left me wordless, but i think that's an excuse. the past few days have been rather blissful and a deepening within myself seems to be occuring .a ripening, a quickening. it started with a walk around a forest preserve near warrenville last friday near twilight. i just looked up to the sky and said: thank you. i said it out loud. i said it with a kind of conviction.
thank you for this passionate spirit still alive inside of me, animating me, compelling me to make love, and cry, and rage, and make poems, and dance, and believe. thank you for this great gift to be able to savor and acknowledge my life, my loves, my fire. thank you. thank you for this breath, and to be able to witness this beauty and this terror that lands in front of me. and that i can claim my own life. make my own choices. thank you for my indispensible friends who keep me honest. thank you for anthony and all that i live and suffer for. thank you for my past and this moment and all this hurtling into the future, the future, the future. thank you.
and when i prayed that night, with twilight rushing in and the trees beginning to moan, i prayed for the kind of gratitude that would allow me to remember that i'm here to be of compassionate service to others. and that in my role as writer, teacher, lover, friend, dreamer, traveler, i can nurture myself. i can teach myself how to live. yes, i know how to do that. listening to music, watching great films, lavishing in hot jacuzzi baths, doing yoga stretches, getting a massage, acupuncture, making love, traveling, writing, cultivating friendships, making time for exotic dining, meditating, reading, time for my partner. constructs. rhythm. breathing. yes, i can do this. i can manage these things in my life. i can make choices that acknowledge the essential gerard.
claire called from portland last night and i asked her to email me and check in with me every week or so to make sure i was doing one positive activity just for me. one thing that supports the core of my being.
this weekend i lingered with anthony on the bed, talking about reincarnation and psychic powers and aliens and beloved saints and angels and vanquished desire. looking at his old prom pictures. tickling him. just being in the moment. talking and breathing and kissing and dreaming together. i can't believe how much i love him sometimes. and how fortunate i am to have his warm body embracing mine. those eyes and that sweet sicilian smile that take me in so deep. i won't let go. i won't forget to say i love you. and thankyou.
and then this dream this morning, this lucid dream, of a room where i'm surrounded by artists, and it seems somehow everyone wants to touch me, to be around me, a kind of adoration. and a rainbow (how cliche, my goodness!) outside the window over a body of water. and then in this room, phone calls telling me that i'm loved. and i woke up feeling so protected and so necessary. as if this other life is waiting for me. just waiting.
and then today, ed at work, stopping by my desk and remarking that he keeps looking in the chicago tribune, hoping to read a syndicated column there penned by me. out of blue he says this! me, a columnist! how did he know i have kept that dream in the back of my head, unspoken for years! and then, without provocation, he wanders by and says it! to speak my desire out loud! to remind me of one of my hidden dreams! wake up!
it's april, and my birthday is so close, and spring is suddenly breaking through and the universe seems suddenly more fertile and responsive and loving! this prayer at twilight in the forest, this gratitude, this surrending to what is beyond me, this wish that keeps repeating itself.
can i just remember to say thankyou. to make each breath a thank you. each gesture, each glance. thank you.
