Bird sailing across the Peruvian sky
Right then, so I’m excited about Digweed. I believe that’s common knowledge, as I can’t stop talking/bouncing about his arrival this eve. The dance floor release. The Inner Circle bonding. The complete and total escape.
But I’m also lower than a snake’s belly, in the internal dialogue sense. Again, that banter about how awful I look these days. How awful I feel. How awful it is that I care so much about how awful I feel about looking awful.
Do you follow me?
Serpent. Eating. Tail.
This ridiculous struggle. Maybe I’ve latched onto it as punishment for falling in love with such a visually beautiful, emotionally unattainable spirit. As if that isn’t punishment enough on its own. Or maybe I’m just manifesting my disdain for myself in general by showing it on the outside. Or maybe I’m just crazy.
I like the last theory bestest.
I really have no choice but to return to the Amazon and continue the Quest. April’s visit gave me a bitch slap, a huge dose of professional clarity, and endless writing inspiration. She woke me up, Miss Ayahuasca, making me realize that my own powers are just the beginning. If I’m open to the great spiritual beyond, I can move mountains. I can impact the world on a beautifully grand scale. And yes, just maybe, I can get over these lame ass annoying as bloody hell body issues.
Can she really be THAT powerful?
Since I was shown past lives, future successes, and profundity I can yet verbalize – I dare say Yes. But only if I Believe. Because, see, it’s not just about how I see myself, and how in turn that makes me feel, but about love in general. I don’t allow myself to feel too much of it. There’s gotta be a reason. I have the love of my friends, but even that unconditional greatness is only allowed at arm’s length most moments. What I’m afraid of, I really don’t know. I really. Don’t. Know. And I’d like to.
So the countdown is on. For Digweed, for Ayahuasca, and for the chance to let love in. It sounds so simple, no? I shall make it so.
