heavy baggage under dropping eyes.
i wanna do everything but sit in silence, everything but get closer to insides.
it feels as if all of me is telling me not to. its ok, everything tells myself, you can miss just one more sit.
but it is my rebellious spirit, my forever guide (and misguide at times), that wants to disobey these posturings of support.
gentrification or “urban renewal” (really a term used to invisibilize displacement of peoples) is essentially colonialism. when a place has endured a removal of lives, when its new inhabitants have joyfully erased its natives’ forced exodus (or have appropriated it to show progressiveness), when the process of “renewal” has replaced a natives’ culture and history with what is ahistorical (shiny shit that is used as an agent of forgetting), when there are forces of state violence (in this case the cops) protecting the lives and property of its new residents, what is it but colonization?
its appearance is just more comfortable to swallow now.
gentrifying san franscisco
yesterday night I made a mistake. I make mistakes kinda often, I suppose. Been alone in my head and heart for so many years that I forget where I’m at sometimes. People know this about me, my fam especially. And it’s with this knowledge that I’m known by folks to be irresponsible, careless, forgetful, tardy to the party, spacey, clumsy, etc.
Since learning this, I really do try to be less of those things. but when I do exhibit those qualities, I judge myself with the voice of those who have judged me, and hard. Yesterday was one of those days. And as a strange (and mean) punishment, I told myself that I don’t deserve to sit because if i cannot have my mindfulness shift from meditation to my day-to-day then fuck it.
these were my stories yesterday in the thick of it.
today i sat. because i do make mistakes. the fucking end.
i hold tension- my jaw tightens, my stomach locks, my eyebrows furrow, my shoulders become friendly with my ears. and when i sit, my purpose is to notice, so i notice these parts held and i loosen my grip and release. but its because im sitting in place with the purpose of noticing that release happens. how often in my day, with all the movings, reactivities and stressors, do i notice when i hold, grip and tighten the many parts of me that want to be free?
how often can i notice it now?
the more mindfulness penetrates my practice, the more i am released from time’s grasp.
the question of “is it almost over?” will be less and less a place of focus.