Burning Man return.

playa dusted shirt. Knotted red handkerchief. Leather wrist strap. The return from the desert; heightened reality, another kind of vision quest. Total calm. Love for my people. For my community. For the world. Bee says she read all the captions on the images I upload to facebook. She loves them. I told my stories out there in the desert. I spoke my truth. I felt my body tired exhausted and raw. Exhilirated. Loving. Open.
I look at the worlds on my bookshelf. I think id like to be in love, to have a partner. I question and question what is my role in this world? What is my service, my profession? I want to know who I am, what I am. I want to have the skills, to be constantly engaged developing my skills, my magical powers; manifestation.
Where are my angels? I feel like everything has left me. I cast the I ching, I trust it because I trust the way I feel reading it. Soothing. My life is not exciting and more and more I accept this. I am accepting this, and also enjoying it, yearning for a lack of excitement, yeaerning for a steady drone, the running to the sun, the breathing ritual.
Standing at the coffee shop, at the tent at burning man, standing in this constant wash of life, tides of interaction, of desire, of worry, fear, push, drive; I breathe. I breathe and in my steady aware breathing, my appreciative, rhythmic breathing, I am my greatest art. If I cannot lose my breathe through all of this, if I can find and rest in this steady breathing through everything, through my life, I will find my kelly, I will be my self. This would be my greatest work of art, the greatest thing I can be; a constant, steady breathing.

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