If you look close, you will see that with each blink we all shield ourselves.
Secrets on flower petals. Blink.
A certain aroma carried through spring's eager breeze. Blink.
Running your fingers along a windowsill where the sun has added it's warmth. Blink.
Houses settle, but our souls don't. Bodies break down, then feed the earth.
We disconnect into particles of energy. We accumulate elsewhere.
Flower petals.
Nostalgic aromas.
Fingers.
Windowsills.
The Sun.

S.M.
011914

Her dilated pupils, flooded with the vision.
For all the light you have inside, there is an equal amount of dark.
If you don't know how to use one, you sure as hell aren't going to be able to use the other.
Tear it open to reveal that you are more in tune with the true nature of your being than you can understand.
Mouth is moving, but no words come.
Blood thirsty, and it's in your hands.
You don't leave this dance until I say, "I'm done".

shape shift

Dreamt of beating a huge green snake with a stick that kept lunging at a crowd of people I was guiding through the woods.
I kept telling it, "What did I tell you?" And it turned into a brunette young girl and she looked scared. I told her to get up and had her go into the crowd of people.
I had to restrain myself from hitting her again even though she was a human now... Or in a human form.
Either way, in my dream I kept wondering if the other people in the crowd were also "other" creatures that might attack, and instead of leading them to safety I should go climb a tree and let them fend on their own.

Upon waking, I realize this is reality.
To the tree it is.

I like rooms that are filled with natural light all year long. I always keep sheer curtains up so the colors blend onto the walls and ceiling and spill onto the floor. I like trinkets, knick knacks, and house plants on shelves. I like colorful modernish homes with open spaces and high ceilings.
I like the smell of lemon, berries, and pineapple to fill my home and make me think of warm weather.
I like freshly vacuumed floors, poofy pillows, soft blankies, and cuddling with my little Rhu and a kitty kneading me.
I like making art that looks like how I feel inside, and seeing those feelings reflect on others when they look at it. I love that my son has picked up the love for creating. He sits on my lap as I smear paint across a canvas and I'm not restricted by his little curious hands wanting to help add his renditions.
I like that each afternoon my home is filled with the sounds of him giggling and repeating everyone, his little hand reaching up and wanting to teach me the sign language he has learned that day.
I like finding rows of hot wheels on all the window sills, along the bathtub, a tower of blocks in my doorway, scribbles on my walls, a strategically placed row of foam letters on my keyboard when I turn on my computer.
Today they spelled "Luv".

That feeling you get when you are standing still,
You look down with your mind instead of just your eyes.
You are no longer standing, you are aware, you are an energy.
Emitting. Ominous.
You feel tall, floating, drifting.
It wraps you in a nostalgia, it fills your mouth with a certain buzzing.
You are aligned.
Parallel, with someone else emitting the same frequencies.
Inner.
Crawl inside, through tunnels into secret passages filled with tchotchke that have accumulated where your soul cleansing is to occur.
I am vibrating now, standing like a pillar in a hollowed out cave.
Holding in my small hands, the weight of the sun.
Meditate on it. Breathe me in.
Give us time. Come inside.

-Saree McClaran
122313

There was a long dark room, flickering shadows everywhere, as far as you could see. Though I stopped trying to focus my eyes because it kept showing me glimmering faces.
Hands reaching out to hold my hands, to touch my arms, fingers brushing softly on my neck.
All of them trying to talk at once and ask questions, in the know that I am aware.
Possibly too aware, overwhelmed a bit.
Simple complications...

Next up, obstacle removal.

Dreamt that I was sitting next to a mound of rocks. I had one in my hand that was smooth. It was grey with sparkly blue lines on it. I heard some one behind me and stood up to look and there was a man in the dark smiling.
He reached his hand out to me but I couldn't move though.
He had an armful of leaves, vines, and flowers.
I handed him the rock I was holding. It broke in half in his palm, the sparkling blue spilled out like glitter. He sighed like he was disappointed.
It made me feel bad.
He told me "Let me show you." Then threw everything he was holding into the air.
It looked like we were in a naturey snowglobe.
"Give me time." I said.
"Time ... waits." he replied.

better?

If someone can whisper something in your ear it's only you that can let it reside there, it's only you letting the doubt it instilled resonate off your past.
I wasn't there, I can't pick up those pieces, they are not mine.
I have my own pieces.
I can only take a deep breath each time someone knocks them from my hands when I have found and gathered them all Myself.
I have too much faith in people, even when they give me no reason.
Don't say I didn't try.