Feb 6

0401

I wish I could write better about school. J whispering in my ear: “I am feeling really emotional right now and I could cry. I feel like I could cry but I don’t want anyone to know. But I want to tell you. It’s intense. I’m sweating.” He’s wide eyed, on edge, attuned – because of a poem he wrote. Then, minutes later, I, writing down her email, talking with me about her poetry, food, a project. “I appreciate you, Devon.” Then, DA. Working gradually through his essay, bit by bit, diligently bringing his thoughts to light and pinning them bloodily to the page. Yawning, yawning. Throughout, D, talking to me all day long, interrupting with her random thoughts. Where did her finished product go? Where will I hang it? 

When Gay keeps approaching me, while the kids are right there and she could just join them, and asking: “So, what else can I do?” Is it that I should give her the chores of soup making? So that I can sit down? Is she genuinely asking me because she doesn’t know how to join? Or is she asking me to give her jobs so that she doesn’t have to join? Let’s assume the former? Why is it hard for me to see that in the moment?

Driving to school this morning I was listening to the Aires EA astrocast. What was it that she was saying? It all felt very connected to whiteness. I felt the alignment of the work we are being encouraged to do by Rebecca: set down the shield of whiteness and just say how you feel, as though your feelings are the same size as everyone else’s and your irritation and disappointment are just the same as anyone’s… 

Attending to my own nervous system in this way: how am I being tricked? What feeling motivates the grasping? Why? This is yoga…

Noticed my desire to be busy, judgmental, invasive around Z and Ab’s convo about friends with Holly. I could hear Z’s voice so well, taking over, rising, reclaiming the space. I could feel the hitch in me, the catch. Learning from her is the same as learning from Gay. They are to point me back to me. They are not for me to try to change. I am blessed to have these wonderful mirrors, and these wonderful, beloved bodies who stand behind the mirrors, waiting for me to stop seeing myself and just love them. 

I saw Destiney today sharing, being open with her process. I want to emulate that. 

 

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