open the throat, feel the floor.

My Mind Map :your dna. called courage.  courage to give, courage to recieve, courage to feel the floor, the earth underneath our feet,

even when the cars roar by i stay connected.

today in my singing lesson, i became concious of the fear that inadvertently closes the passage in our throats in order to protect us.

in fact, it does the opposite.

closing the throat then makes the larynx work harder, no longer vibrating with gentle resonance but making the larynx become two fists punching one another to get the voice up and out.

better to let the throat stay open – in all the fear and anxiety – stay open.

your presence- when fear is blocking our natural connections- is our only protection.

Practise: how to stay present?  wherever you can find a place in your body that is willing to be felt or be moved – to participate in flow- put your conciousness there and let your self circulate from that window of openess – keep circulating by moving in little circular motions or whatever feels good in that area until it moves right into the areas that are blocked…swallow and breathe. Continue for as long as needed to feel safe and comfortable where you are in this moment.

changes are on the fron tier uv the boat a rockn

stuck between a hard place...and sea blu mediteranean heaven

read over, read over.

changes are lit when the drift begins to smell.

the engine is a put a put a put. put it where u want it, this little lever, the thing u grab hold uv to send u off in the write direction. (so here i am, writing)

a put a put a put in a tiny boat. i come dressed as a large sea woman, sailing thru
a rite uv passage.

i am scribbling on sea weeds. rolling the sashimi style letter, squeezed into a bottle, i breathe my human voice into it, hoping the echo will be just enough to send it to the other side.

hulahuuu! hello! right how are u? who? u, there on the other side uv this pen. it aint a pen talkin, i am calling from the other side uv the rockies.

no those are my friends sending me hellos from vancouver to toronto. echoes back. certain heart warmers have led me here on this tiny rockn boat. changes on the fron tier. im scribbling. and i hear voices. too many nights out at sea? or has this summer been a hot one? either way i wipe the sweat off the brow and dip my feet in.
there are rocks.

the sharp edges cut thru paper and i seal it with tongue salt. and a kiss.

here is what i say:

tell one another what u really feel. its simple. how are u? eyes bat, look straight into the soft glow uv the cornea and smile. teeth studded in gold sweet swirling juices washed up by tongue needing to talk.

sure we do.

sitting in the living room with a dear friend not to tell our stories over and over again, rather to begin a true talking session, the kind we intelligent folks pay professionals for.

a heart uv gold what is it worth?

in a kitchen, she listens, with a large smile pulled back like red velvet curtains before the staging uv a play. yes i am listening.
we are talking to one another and giving each other the centr stage. i am here. listening to u.
im talking about friend ships sailing one another and

not keeping score.
she shouts from land

” WOMAN the game is on the other side! we must help one another to get there so there are enough players to play!”

the stage yes “im rowing im rowing!”
but all i see is blu in
this back and forth buisness
uv talking. and what if we hit rocks?
my eyes flicker and my stomach quivers as i grab a hold again uv this lever thng and put myself back on course. i speak my truth about my dreams, those things scribbled on sandy nights, and she listens holding my words in her arms like a divine baby.

and instead uv fear,
on this tiny boat surrounded by sharp rocks, my words in her arms,
i FEEL rocked
no no, i feel
rather
ROCKING!