• metal ox •

The new moon brought endings. Travelling sister making an empty room. Demanding lover calling me to create space in my chest again. Divestment from resistance leaving me without organization into which to pour my care, which I do have. Again, it’s me and my teachers, and these seedlings that have yet to sprout. An itchy scalp and some space in a day, mostly sleep and prayers for dreaming. Writing that my soul calls for, and no one to read it. Yet.

I made a commitment I can keep. To unravelling spools of shadows into a loom of tapestry, composing pictures yet to be formed. Unforming all pictures and repurposing the color. There is a purpose for each of these colors. The light gifts them daily across the earth, a collaboration with the technology of our visionary apparatus. Eyes and the mind, its circuitries.

I don’t fear as much anymore. Not the death of ceasing to be social. Not the nothingness of no career, no outward praise name. I have been looking out the same window my whole life but the view has changed. I am not in resistance to this place. The bougainvillea and the jasmine, the hibiscus and the rosemary, the lemon balm and the calla lily — they are deeper comrades than I’ve known. Not only for their beauty and what they do for the space behind my eyes, but also for the way they pull together communities of insects, bees and hummingbirds. The humming and flitting that they sustain, and the way they draw in the sun, without barely reaching for it.

There have been wars for a long time and I am not the first to choose not to fight in it. I may be attached to some comforts and they will be stripped of me one day; every day I recall that inevitable surrender. I am grateful for this rocking net, that each week changes out its ropes. Through the changes I’m held. Unbound, swaying. Trembling. Free.

What would be truly revolutionary is to invite transformation through the power of yin — a slow, stabilizing, inclusive and integrated process that is focused on development, not on a hasty outcome. This type of change is akin to pregnancy, which makes space for hidden and mysterious processes.

— miss tangQ