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Shambala training, level 5, with Acharya Jenny Warwick. My weekend will be spent sitting, walking, listening and hopefully, letting the clear light of the three jewels shine through the dark places in this tender heart.

What’s life, what’s dharma, what’s art?

We asked those questions tonight in Dharma Art… Talked and talked, came up with all sorts of interesting ideas, but I really liked the potency of seeing life as a process of metabolizing experience.

I’ve been metabolising some serious sadness lately, just walking through the steps of my life, functioning fine, doing my job, having fun, relating to people normally, but there’s this sharp tight edge, like an invisible precipice of grief and loneliness and missingness… I know it’s not real, I’m not actually going to fall off a cliff, everything IS really OK, life is still full of beauty and good people and yummy food and friends who love me and believe in me. So I just let the waves of feeling rush through me, surging, releasing, grasping, reeling, lusting, rusting. I can’t will them away so I’m letting them percollate, even howl if they need to… Whatever. It’s all me.

I have a dear sisterfriend who matches me step for step in this crazy life, whatever I’m going through, she is too, even down to the last little emotional glottal stop on the hairy scarey road of love. Talking to her, holding her, being held, listening to her, letting it all spill out in all it’s ugliness, knowing there’s no judgement-just acceptance and so much empathy!-always helps so very, very much. She knows I’m strong and sane, even when I’m whipped. She holds that knowledge for me when I lose it.

Divinity on earth.

Metabolising experience, all experience, the good and yummy and the wrenching, painful kind-it’s all nutritious.

At least that’s the theory.

Mastering the reality, that’s another story, a lifelong one that I intend to take one little bit at a time.

The stunningly delicious KC

does dessert.

“When I was away from Jean Claude, away from his body, his voice, I could be embarrassed, scratchy with discomfort that I was dating him. When I was away from him, I could talk myself out of him-almost. But never when I was with him. When I was with him, my stomach dropped to my feet and I had to fight very hard not to say things like golly.

I settled for: ‘You look spectacular, as always. What are you doing here on a night that I told you not to come?’ What I wanted to do was throw myself around him like a coat and have him carry me over the threshold clinging to him like a monkey. But I wasn’t going to do that. It lacked a certain dignity. Besides it sort of scared me how much I wanted him-and how often. He was like a new drug. It wasn’t vampire powers. It was good old-fashioned lust. But it was still scarey, so I had set up parameters. Rules. He followed them, most of the time.

He smiled, and it was the smile I’d grown to both love and dread. The smile said he was thinking wicked thoughts, things that two or more could do in darkened rooms, where the sheets smelled of expensive perfume, sweat and other bodily fluids. The smile had never made me blush until we started having sex. Sometimes all he had to do was smile, and heat rushed up my skin like I was thirteen and he was my first crush. He thought it was charming. It embarrassed the hell out of me.

‘You son of a bitch,’ I said softly.”

‘Blue Moon’, an Anita Blake, Vampire hunter novel.

Thank you, Laurell K Hamilton, it’s an odd, thoroughly enjoyable combination of corny and kickass and I must confess, you’re keeping me up, hooked, squirming, turning page after page(long after I ought by rights be asleep), creaming my sheets late, late into the vampiric hours.

Yeah, oh yeah, time for bed!

I think I must have tapeworms.

I’ve been so mad hungry lately, Meghann says I have two hollow legs… It’s pretty crazy how much chow I’m putting away lately without it showing up anywhere on my skinnyass bod, dang it! Where, oh where are my ripe curves, my bodacious melons, my stunning cleavage?

Oh well, Danni says cleavage is just the space between your breasts, so I’ve got all the cleavage in the world!

I love that girl.

…the coconut oil melts. I picked up the jar this morning and knew immediately, just by the feel, the liquidity of the heft, that it wasn’t solid anymore.

The butter is melting, leaking out of my blue ceramic dish too. But hey, it’s the perfect day for a jug of lemon balm, mint, borage suntea.

Aaaah… Summer.

One of the fabuloso bald heads I painted is up on the LRS site!

Spent another lovely, sandy, sunnyass day at Golden Gardens. Sam and Rowan ranged the beach, threw frisbee, mined green stones and piled up buckets of sand for my dragoning.

Such a good dragon. Never ate a kid in it’s life.

I like the distant view, shows the length of the tail nicely.

Phew, nice to have some real summer heat finally, though we did get a bit sunpinked… Twas the kind of day you wear your laundry right out of the machine-wet! I was so hot and sweaty from driving home that’s what I did, wore a nice soaking wet shirt whilst I watered the garden. By the time I was done, it was almost dry!

Ah, happy skinny girl weather.

We love you, wild child. I can’t believe you’re a whole decade already.