Ah February. Oh.
My birthday on Friday was warm and lovely. Many people came out of the walls to wish me love and happiness and health and it helped me remember how well I am loved. And loved so well.
So, February, I learned from Devyn, is a great time to clean out things. Clean out your head, your home, your fridge, whatever. Before he'd told me about Imbolc or Brigid (who's beautiful on my Goddess calendar and a complimentary representation of Aquarius in my mind) I found myself being really anal and reorganizing my closet by color and type of garment.
I'm watching myself pretty closely lately. I'm waiting for my patterns and cycles to become clearer so that I can cope with the life I'm living (which I remind myself, I've chosen) better.
As I'm watching I'm also learning how to love my dreams up close so that I can live them and focus less on chasing. That, I learned from reading Off the Map, which nearly sent me into an flying leap for anonymity and freedom. I wondered if I too could become a hobostripper.
I've noticed in the last 2 years that February/March is a time when I'm usually picking up pieces of fragmentary depression and weaving them into a gorgeous tapestry of creative action that sustains me until spring (or spring fever, depending on where I'm living). I've been writing, organizing, knitting, walking, smiling at strangers and taking myself on dates to museums to look at old old things. I didn't expect the Field Museum to smell so much like moth balls.
3 recent compliments that felt really good and inspire me:
Your poems sound like they'd make phenomenal short stories.
Your playfulness is infectious.
A radio dedication from my favorite dj for my birthday followed by some soul deep inspiration booty shaking music.
I've been 'practicing' provocative dance moves in my apartment randomly. I'm teaching myself the "porn star crawl" and what i'll call the "isolated cheek ass shake". I'll tuck the knowledge into my greenhouse of plans and laugh lovingly at myself.