Writing with Rox WEEKLY—Where does all the time go?

worrying
laughing
wondering
eating
cooking
cleaning
looking for the perfect raincoat at a thrift store
finding other things at a thrift store instead

running down the trash
running up the mail
running down the recycling
taking out the compost
looking for the lost thing I need right now
and that other thing
forgetting my...
walking Jude to the bus
walking home
running up the stairs
locking the bike
unlocking the bike
parking
backing out
stopping
walking back to the bus stop
waiting...

I thought I would have time to do that today
I'll do it tomorrow when it isn't raining
when I have more time
But wait: I don't have time tomorrow either

time is time no matter what; don't you know that by now?
yoga 
breathing
finding time to breathe and be with time
finding time
booking time
knowing that time is a social construct
but not doing anything about that

time out
sleeping
recovering from the weekend
where there wasn't enough time
what time is it? 
oh shit. really? 
already?
is it bedtime already? not yet?
shouldn't i be hungry by now?
what? time to get up? No.
Five more minutes.
Five more
five more
five more

Okay. I'll skip washing my hair.

washed away with the rain?
in my memories?
on the page?
everything at once?
what time is it? 
Now. 
But I'm forgetting something I need to know right now
like:
check email, the weather, reply to a text, eat, check, check, check.
notice
take my time
hurry up

running late
last minute

wow.       early is really weird.          really, really weird. 

time        is not as i know it when                    I'm         early. 

where am i?                 It's as if I'm moving backwards.

 I     gotta        do             this                    more. often. 

More often. 
I gotta more often. 
I gotta more do. 
More often. 
More do. 
Often do more.
Moredo. Gotta more.
I often. I often. I often.
Do you often?

standing in the elevator
waiting to go up two flights seems like it will take forever... hurry!
until I rest my chin downward, see my belly going in
going out
and it feels so good, so delicious, from inside
to out
and I say to myself I hope this elevator ride
never ends 
because I could do this all day long and be happy


WRITE WITH ME?
Where does all your time go? (or mine for that matter?) :

Writing with Rox WEEKLY—Is your moon also in the 8th house?

So I decided to have my astrological chart done. It was hard to follow, since what do I know from houses in Jupiter and such, but apparently I am in a restless phase and something big is supposed to come along in the next month. Additionally, turns out I'm not done with Pluto, I am obsessed with living, communicating, feeling, and expressing only the deepest, core, truths (I believe this is the Uranus in one of my houses speaking?), and I am basically doomed when it comes to relationships... unless I can... now what was that again?

But isn't this true for everyone, I asked?

Well, not really. Because my moon is watery and this lifetime is all about getting back to the womb.  Because my sun is friends with Mercury and Mars is my buddy, but my Venus doesn't get along with Saturn, unless Neptune is visiting. And, by the way, I'm an old soul, born in the final phase of the moon. The sliver, am I? The crescent? Now, this does explain my tendency to doodle out moons, crescents in particular, all over the place, perhaps accounting for the tattoo on my ankle, which is, likewise, in its final phase.

Oh, you too, you say? Well.

My feet are very, very tired. Are yours?

My job is to grow fins. Is yours?

My job is also to go back home, return to my roots, to origins, to God, to Source. Is yours?

I'm always trying to find home. I'll get there, but it will take some time. It will be complicated, but my job is buck up against dogma and find out what my origins did with their struggles along the way. 

You too?

The good news, the very good news, is I have a guardian angel. And my midheaven is up to something exciting and a big party is on its way.

Today in writing we wrote about what our "normal" is and what our "not normal" is. This exercise was further inspired by a student who came in and said she would never consider putting magnetic paint on her wall, which was shocking to me. Again, doesn't everyone paint on their walls?

But thankfully it isn't her normal. Because as we wrote and shared, I got to hear about her normal, her childhood tubing down the Rum River all the way to her doorstep. And about someone else's normal, full of mystical sin eaters and emerald majesty. Someone else's normal was begging to change, hungering for a new normal.

And that is why we write. Because my normal, crazy as it is, is normal to me. My normal is magnetic paint on the small wall, film projector paint on the big wall. My normal is getting my chart done just for the heck of it. My normal has mother issues, is vulnerable, addicted, allergic, compassionate, codependent, sensitive, drawn to instability, yet overly stable, committed, searching for freedom, out-of-my-body, in my body, creative, intuitive, passionate, apathetic, homeless, everchanging...

...isn't done with Pluto.

And sharing these normals when we write together—in their varied phases of bloom—we linger there until we recognize our miraculous belonging in this moment in time, amidst this vast, infinite, lonely, weightless, universe with multiple moons, heavens, holes, and empty houses, where we so easily could have gotten lost and disappeared behind the fallen stars.

WRITE WITH ME?

What is your normal?

What house is your moon in? 

What's doing with your horoscope?