4/11/23
This is my first attempt to reconnect with someone I miss. The girl who used to discover her feelings through writing them down. I miss her so much.

seen from Australia
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seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Iraq

seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Norway

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye
4/11/23
This is my first attempt to reconnect with someone I miss. The girl who used to discover her feelings through writing them down. I miss her so much.
e m e r g e n c e
15:00 on the clock.
Lately I’ve been reading Emergent Strategy by Adrienne Marie Brown, and I find myself thinking about the state of continual emergence I am in. Emerging from the narrow hallway of the past into the wider and wilder fields of the future. Also within myself. Emerging from the abandoned husks of past evolutions, stepping from the sarcophagi of the former incarnations of my ego into patterns of a generally freer and renewed human. Of course, emergence doesn’t always seem like such beautiful bliss when in the middle of a transformation, what the feeling is more akin to is stuck. Trapped, enclosed, lost, confused, hurt, deflated, and broken. I wonder if a caterpillar knows what comes next as it begins to form it’s cocoon and becomes trapped in its chrysalis. Does it believe it is creating a coffin or know that it is beginning a catalytic conversion that will open up new planes of experience and wonder on the other side. I find parallels between my personal continuum of emergence and what I’ve been witnessing in the world as of late. Most days it feels like, as a species, we are simply trapped by the worse of our collective natures. Ruled by hate, fear, and greed and unable to throw off the manacles that keep us bound to a way of being that is the source of our own self-destruction. It feels like as a nation we are in a time that will come to be known as the “dark night of the soul”--which Echkart Tolle describes as “ what one could call a collapse of a perceived meaning in life…an eruption into your life of a deep sense of meaninglessness.” By some accounts it feels like whats been built, these artifices of a empires are beginning to crumble, rotting from the inside out. The veneer is yellowed and peeling and we are beginning to collectively experience a disillusionment that makes us question who we are, what we know and what we will do about it.
Despite this, I believe that we are traversing down a necessary path towards a world that us wider and wilder, freer and fuller that will be able to inhabit with our whole selves rather than the selective parts that make the machinery of this monstrous beast continue to move. I think that we are on the cusp of an emergence, that while not guaranteed is available to us if we assume roles that facilitation this transformation. I think of imaginal cells, there is a beautiful description written by a blogger that captures what I envision. “Imaginal cells are the ones that create the incredible process of metamorphosis that occurs when a caterpillar changes into a butterfly. These cells hold all the potential for the future, but initially they act separately, before combining as one to create something incredible that is a great improvement on their previous existence.
The process of this change is amazing. Within the chrysalis, the structure of the caterpillar dissolves into a soupy organic mush. Hitherto dormant cells – “imaginal cells” – from the caterpillar start to develop the new structure of a butterfly, even though there is no similarity whatsoever between the two creatures.
Initially, each of the imaginal cells operates as a single-cell organism – entirely independent of one another. The immune system of the caterpillar even identifies them as threats and attacks them. Regardless, the imaginal cells continue; they multiply, and they connect with one another, forming clusters.
They start to resonate with the same frequency and communicate in the same language, passing information backwards and forwards until there is a tipping point – when they stop acting as individual, separate cells and instead, become a multiple-celled organism: a butterfly.” I believe we have the capacity to activate the imaginal cells in us that will facilitate our inner transformation as we become the imaginal cells, shifting and taking shape to fulfill the needs of the process we are currently collectively going through. To be honest, sometimes I get discouraged. Sometimes I don’t see the end of the hall and I think I’ve just imagined seeing the light, or forget the far darker place I’ve already emerged from. But I think that’s just a part of it. It’s just the process. I’m trying to cultivate calmness in my chrysalis and patience in becoming. Emerging isn’t always (or even usually) graceful. We enter this world crying and helpless, but look how far we’ve come. Look at us using our oppose-able thumbs and shit, it’s great. I believe its only a matter of practice and patience until we get the hang of our subtler powers and finer senses, as well. My 15:00 is twice up, but for anyone reading this out there. Just wanna say, I see you emerging and its beautiful. Just keep growing. You got this.
Once-blue velella / velella, colorless as / plastic, washed up. #lagunabeachpoet #haiku #morningwalk #morningwrite #seacreatures #velellavelella #searaft #bythewindsailor #purplesail #littlesail #cnidarian #beached #washedup #seashorestilllife #brooksstreetbeach #velellaseason (at Laguna Beach, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxNWzIsBqvl/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1sb4w800pymsu
Over the rainbow: / pot ‘o golden light brightens / nooks, crannies, curves, caves. #haiku #lagunabeachpoet #morningwalk #morningwrite #potofgold #overtherainbow #nooksandcrannies #geologyrocks #lagunalandmark #lagunabeachrocks #naturalformations #sunlightandshadow #parkavenuelagunabeach (at Laguna Beach, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw-nfzSBT4L/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1wkw0k9mj8rvt
The world keeps spinning
But I'm feeling seasick
Black bodies keep falling, falling, and falling Scrapping asphalt built to last many winters Gravel inches into their last breath “I can’t breathe” uttered from lips still mocked We are buried alive Black bodies keep falling, falling, and falling Making no sound like trees in an empty forest Unsettling whispers settling on stubborn hearts “Are all men created equal?”, eating lies for breakfast Our daily dead Black bodies keep falling and falling Shackled in stereotypes, modern day lynchings Status post slavery they say, things are better they say We are drowning Black bodies keep falling and falling Stuck realizing dreams deferred Gasping for air we wake, we pray Our nightmare
Black bodies keep falling Peace attempts to rise against the tide We are screaming Black bodies keep falling Skin pierced with disbelief Our tears Black bodies Exhausted
seasons,simple rhyme.
I hated it when the seasons change
I'd wear flip flops in the rain
and my winter coat in the heat
and my rain boots at the beach
i'd play in the snow with my bare feet
adjusting to change always seemed to be hard
my eyes would hurt as it went from light to dark
and dark to light
so I'd sleep at night in the light; a night light
seasons change and some things are for seasons
cliche,but I've learned it really is for a reason
as with people,its all about time
as the bible says "to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. a time to be born, and a time to die;a time to love,
and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace and a time ao laugh; and a time to weep."
So I've learned and now I wear my winter coat in the cold
and midrif tops when its warm but every now and then
I wear a wool hat in 90 degrees
and open toe shoes on new years eve,
Frosten bitten feet remind me that although I loved those pair of shoes and that wool hat,they were all from last season,as a matter of fact
I had to let them go,they served their time.
Though some items and people are simply divine,everlasting in time,made to weather every season and storm.
others are to be left,
like those favorite pair of gloves that have been worn and now it's warm
beside they have holes, I couldn't even use them for the snow.
I never really like when the seasons change but as "they say," I probably wouldn't be thankful for the sun if it wasnt for the rain.