Everybody Poops: Shit + Blood + Mucus

4.17.2014 Thurs. 7:19 AM

Like some kind of unseen clockwork, I awake at 7:12 AM, without hesitation, still sick, my body working to get into equilibrium again.

In my dreams, there was music, different kinds.

The bathroom at  s'Nice  which will be seriously missed (and the only bathroom related photo most appropriate for this posting). 

The bathroom at s'Nice which will be seriously missed (and the only bathroom related photo most appropriate for this posting). 

I know this body is a good body because it expels waste. It knows when something no longer belongs. I cough and this big green mucus mass comes out and I spit it out (the sink is nearby). I feel sneezing coming on + I sneeze twice. More green mucus, a lot of it, comes pouring out of my nose. For me, I need to see what comes out of my body whether it's shit or blood or sickness mucus (+ even vomit though that actually really repulses me because I loathe being nauseous...on a side note, although I did not experience “morning sickness” [a lot of people do not], during pregnancy + miscarriage, I experienced pretty much every bodily function there is, including two horrible horrible vomit expulsions as well as the most major one, the miscarriage aka the complete miscarriage aka the natural abortion). I need to see where my body is at and the type of waste I produce communicates. Right now it feels like Diarrhea. I knew it. Last night - no veggies except for a pickle + that instant mac/cheese, completely processed + barely food, but I was so sick + couldn’t cook so I didn’t. I know it was just something to fool my mind + body into thinking it’s eating (and though the mind can be deceived, the body cannot). And also I’m sick. But what do those words really mean? It has such a negative connotation. My body was out of equilibrium. But it is this imbalance which helped make the art + writing happen. Things aren’t all “bad” or all “good” because there is no such thing. They are all states of being. I write this as if it’s so easy to be me in this body-ejecting-waste, but it is not. Sleep + rest. Sleep + Rest? These I have always resisted, even as a child. Am I not a child now? The anxiety lies in the dreams, so many dreams and remembering almost all of them contributes to a disturbing and exhausting waking life. But these/those dreams come from me. Am I frightened of myself?

The unknowns are everywhere including the universe of the body, the mind, the subconscious (your “spirit”?).

But still I need to rest to be “better”. And still my body continues to expel shit + mucus though all the available passageways.

We are living, breathing flowers, pores + openings all over, meant to take in + take out. We are designed this way. Evolution is beautiful thing.

(It’s 7:43am + still there is more shit pouring from me! Welcome to my life! My daily morning routine.).

p.s. Everybody Poops, by Taro Gomi, is possibly one of the best books ever created, definitely in my top 10 favorites.

Blood Moon

4.15.2014 Tues 7:29 AM

Despite trying so hard to stay awake, I awoke on the couch in the living room. In my mind I “slept in” but it is still before 7:30 in the morning and I shake a dismissive hand at the clock in the kitchen.

I missed the rare Blood Moon, the Lunar Eclipse. Last night I read that it's a tetrad and I'll have three more chances. I went around the apartment smudging with my smudge stick, cleansing our living space on this unique occasion. I had intended to do this a few days after the baby died, at Jessica's suggestion, but it never happened. I smudged our bedroom + looked out the window. Where is this Blood Moon? I can’t see it, I said searching in each window. D said, You can’t see the moon from here, but I knew you could because I had. 

I smudged all the rooms and come to the living room. I sent out extra positivity to the living room which has all these Memories + Things but doesn’t have space for Living Things. It will some day soon, I know it.

I went to the corner of the living room windows which has all the Natural Light and the aloes + poinsettia flourish there. I have a nice wooden chair with sturdy arms that I sit in as I continue to smudge. I look out into the city from this eighth floor - building upon building, all bricks, a darkened, clouded sky. Where is the moon?

And then I see it/her/him. All the way to the right, in the top corner of the farthest window, there it/she/he is. Almost out of sight with clouds passing in front of my view, I see her. The Moon looks to have a permanent haze or cloud over a portion of the roundness - the beginning of the Lunar Eclipse. It is not yet Blood Red but it is the beginning.

I gaze and gaze and continue to smudge. Tumble, our cat, sits on the window sill in front of me. The smudge stick is curious for him. Does he know about the moon and what’s happening? Or does he just want to play? Or is playing the point? If there is so much to learn from children - in fact if everything we need to know lies in the genuine and truly authentic experience of children, shouldn’t Playing be apart of everything? Do not the cats and the dogs and the cows and the pigs and the chickens and the whales and the elephants and the sharks and the birds of paradise and the dung beetles and the earthworms all play? And what of the aloe and the basil and the potato and the daffodil and the peppers and the bamboo - don’t they all play?

I awake this morning and I realize that I’ve missed the Blood Moon, but I haven’t, not really. The Blood Moon healed me, kept me on the couch in deep, deep sleep to heal this sore throat, to heal me, to heal this tired body, to allow me to listen and submit to my body, my body which is Of The Earth, constantly telling me what to do, what to eat, what to feel, this body which is of the cosmos, made of the dust of stars.