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.

The universe are my friends + family and the universe provides.

4.8.2014 Tuesday 10:29am

This was some song suggestion on my Spotify radio and it speaks to me. It’s catchy, it's poppy, it feels good, I like it, it says something else, something different than what the songwriter intended. It speaks to my baby that I lost. It speaks to the different people inside of me, inside of each of us.

I went to search for it on Youtube and this polished music video was the first in the results with close ups of girls in short jeans and their boyfriends' touching their legs. I don’t see that when I sing and hear and feel the imagination and emotion of the song. When I first hear it, I see Elton John and then I see myself and I see joy and the possibility of joy. The second video I find, has this hipster-looking band in a sound studio, more goofy, more honest. These attractive dudes jumping in the mud and being - NOT silly boys - but silly human beings. The sound quality is different, more open. And that’s the one I post to Facebook:

We're gonna make it 'til we get sick/Stop talking about it. Let's burn again!/...Peaceful and lazy it's all I wanna be/There ain't no time to waste Let's burn again!

Please listen/watch it here: Let's Burn Again

** Disclaimer: I am very much aware that this song is very blatantly about sex. From the lyrics alone I understand that this guy has reunited with this girl and he wants to get it on with her. But when I first heard the song I didn't know all the lyrics, I never comprehend vocal lyrics ever, and because music is art and art is interpretive, I made it into something else, something for me, and found new meanings in it. To me, when I sing it, it's become a love song from me to myself and my body. So here we go...**

11:48am

Sometimes it feels as though my whole life has been leading up to this point. Do we have a purpose? Do we need a purpose? I feel purposeful.

I feel good and it feels good to feel good.

Since my shower, my new morning routine - wake up, shit, drink my water, journal in my Dream Journal (which is now expanding to the Everything Journal as I traverse this Waking Life) - and then my glorious shower - I’ve been listening to my Energy Playlist. Yes, it feels good to feel good. But I’m also exhausted. Last night S came over joyfully unexpectedly. We haven’t seen each other since my wedding celebration last September and I had so wanted to tell her about the pregnancy and share the joy together. But yesterday morning I knew and told D and journaled that I needed to tell her about my miscarriage. I called her late last night on the way home from work and eating dollar pizza with R... I texted, “Hello! Call me ok? I have important news to share. Love you xoxoxoxox”, She called and we talked and then I told her. And then, as serendipitously as so much has been, she was on 24th and 8th, just a few blocks from me so she came over, and like so many of our reunions with a gap of months or years, it’s like we were never apart, we can talk about anything - these are true friends. We talked and hung out from 11:30pm - 3am. I couldn’t believe it. She had to leave but we just kept talking. And then this morning I woke up, on my own, without an alarm clock at 9:30 in the morning. I couldn’t believe it. And a few hours later, as my Energy Music is playing and I’m singing along and dancing and getting so close to eating, to making my healing sustenance and eating it now, I’m so exhausted. The crying is exhausting. The thinking is exhausting. The talking is exhausting. The feeling is exhausting. Living is exhausting. I keep saying, Death is only hard on the living. I’m sure it’s somebody’s quote but now it’s mine.

I look to see who has liked this photo of mine that I posted on Facebook. A photo of my chopped veggies, some even from my window sill garden (I’ve never had a garden before) and eggs and my potato and three avocados that I’m trying to seed and it’s happening. The caption is, Feeding myself and my babies.

Who and what defines what is means to be a mother, to be a parent, to be a caregiver? I see who liked the post, feeling good that people like it and I see they are all my friends, all my friends who know, who shared in my joy and share in my sorrow. Friends from work, my beloved, a friend from Occupy, a friend from The Choir. And I sob. I start to choke on my food and only stop myself from crying so I don’t. So much of this is feeling overwhelmed by people’s love. So many know. So many know. And so many are here for me. In many ways this is a solo journey that I’m on, and a dual one with D and we’re also flying here with hundreds of people and thousands more as we read blog posts about loss and miscarriage and our similar stories and even the different ones, rise to the top, we sift it out, we find our stories in the words of strangers - but aren’t they our brothers and sisters? Gaia, Mother Earth is our mother and we are all her children, all living things and creatures. And then also, Gaia is a baby, a child in the ever expanding universe. As Neil DeGrasse Tyson loves to say, we are the dust of stars. We are the pollen on this planet, the planet is the flower and we are special and not so special but we are unique because we are alive and we are here. We are perfect.