and I'm excited for dream land

And I'm excited for dream land
where I'll get to see your faces
shining like you just saw the
spectacular.

And I'm excited for the real land.

"it's the beginning, it's the beginning."

really really.

dust to dust: how was burning man??

“How was Burning Man??”

This is an imperfectly rational question

about something so perfectly irrational.

Something so perfectly imperfect. Like us.

The response to this inquiry will likely be as dusty as the cracked and crusty face of the mouth to which you addressed your question. But there’s a glow underneath the exhaustion, and it’s not just a sunburn.

If you were simply being polite in your asking, then I’ll kindly pat you on the shoulder and nudge you in a direction away from myself. But if you are truly curious, then the posts I compose in and around this one are some snapshots from this 1 of 70,000-ish people who participated in this year's Radical Ritual of Burning Man. Thanks for asking, and thanks for listening to my experience entering into and exodusing from the dust...

...from dust to dust...

Like the way it all ended, I can only start with the dust. The dust is how we enter the burn – literally by crossing a line in the sand, rolling around in it, and frantically waving frisky sand angels facing up and down. Getting dirty, getting dusty. This our common denominator and equalizer that is both metaphor for the earth that birthed us, and literal reminder that our uniquely colourful beauty always comes with a side of slightly mucked-up.

The dust gets in your janky, skanky, and ranky bits. Proudly the dust is in places for you to discover in one another, or at least for certain in the dusty porta-pottys.  Like dust bunnies in a dust mine. 

The dust gets in your tent. The dust is in your laughter, kisses, and tears. The dust gets on the spout of your margarita slushy glass and the dust coats your eyelashes. The dust swirls around and the dust settles. The dust is soft, dry, dependably there. We walk, dance, eat, sleep, breathe, think dust. The dust just is.

Dust becomes known. Dust becomes home. Dust to dust we become.

Dust is the foundation for everything else you will be told about Burning man. It is just always there, remember that. In all the stories I spin for you, the images that come to your mind's eye will be a bit hazy because well, you weren't there, and also they are simply coated in the gloriously unshakable dust. Metaphors of us.

- Charlie

let me show you why I dance

let me show you why I dance.

I rise as goddess
from the dust and the downbeat
where I was born
eyes closed I write in the air my response, in sync.
on the downbeat you said you saw the goddess in me, released.

let me show you why I dance.

the brain is power-full mushy malleable

the brain is power-full mushy malleable, 
so I'm playing with it.
so what PTSD
so what my core beliefs 
so still on repeat
so I will rewire the pathways,
an electrician life-trained
from overdrive 
to burnt out 
to sparks fly
like matters of the heart
like heart matters
like brain matter,
the circuit became mine
for the reclaim
when I realized
that only I live in my mind.
so I'm playing with it,
the brain is power-full mushy malleable.

So I take the control-circuit back,
mine for the training,
mind for the playing.

All Along the Sunrise and the Bigness of it All

I recall the bigness of things in the
dust... wiping it from our feet, again. a ritual. 353,000,000 grains per sole,
I've passed through the centuries in a day.
I wipe it all away,

while pondering the bigness of things in the
dark... in robes of white the creatures with legs so high reaching for the blackness of space glide in procession towards the hazy temple glow, tall as the faith I look up to in us, and our giftedness. 
we awaken softly before sleep,

dreaming of the bigness of things before
light... in every angle of this fantastical place, made by us in the real world. we, such big little bodies along the horizon face a neon pink globe calling us into yet another day of brilliance and utter exhaustion. the weight of heat makes us fight for what we need, mystery.
lungs and hearts and skin burning for what - for what do they burn? - 
let it go,
arms up...
it's already gone,

releasing the bigness of things they are all a
blur... somehow I know that when I smash my body through the air like it's mine for the feeling, that we dance with a depth that takes our breath away. we let it go with our sufferings and offerings still floating in the warm shadows of the temple which anchors us -
freed in a community of celebration that 
knows its sorrows, that
knows it will someday die,
but not yet. not yet,

burning the bigness of things to remind us that we are
human... and here we are to reach our heights - with our little limbs that make great things - small against the black rock mountains, declaring the the necessity of awe
at the bigness of it all, and
how magnificent we are,
all along the sunrise.

The Technology of Kindness: It's a Wild Time to Be Alive

I'm soaring over tall wet pines - 
misty rain forests of Treaty 9
reconciling for the mines - 
to have lasers shot into my eyes
three miracles of the time:
flight made simple and
forgiveness of skin and
sight restored...
I'm a believer
in technologies
and the way we use them
to love,
to survive,
to pay attention
from screen to trees
and back again,
eyes open.

it's a wild time to be alive...
leaning into life,
learning love from yours.

dressing up
and playing pretend
made me more real
than when I was taught to
dress like 
us.

dressing down
and unveiling desire
made us more free
than when I was taught to
conceal
me.

but you're so afraid of make believe,
lest it make you believe
you were wrong all along,
lest magic is as real as the real world and
costumes reveal our truth - 
our bodies are launchers of the spirit and
consumers of life as gift and miracle of chance,
eyes open,
I believe.

but you're so afraid.

you told me my body was broken
but brilliance is unfolding in my skin...
I see it by watching what others do with theirs,
eyes open.

"participate in kindness and colour and tools for one another" -
modern day parables,
we are.

wisdom of the ages
reconfigured in our fingers
and our fiery wirey brains,
evolving.

they thought technology would steal our hearts
but here they are still beating,
still offering me rides to my surgery and 
shawarma and electrolytes when I can't make myself food.
when I can't see
but you are my
eyes open.
the technology of kindness.

I think I landed here
by chance and choice and 
I think I took off
because I was born with
arms that admire wings and 
legs that can swim forever and 
can't help but move with the planet and
its mighty interesting offerings.
from screen to trees,

eyes open.

it's a wild time to be alive...
lean into life.

All the Things I've Never Been

how am I going to deal with my unhappinesses? 

I'm going to smother them in joy.

so many hashtags

little signs we're fine for now -

a few little dopamine hits for the interim,

where we tell each other

we're all still out there, 

thanks for witnessing.

you all look beautiful,

I think.

between the Duolingo and baby bears in hammocks on repeat and @DougthePug,

something in me is changing.

I notice this while sitting on my throne -

you know the one I mean,

we've all been there.

that little (or rough) ritual of self-check-in,

a chance to breathe in the flurry of things,

click click click. check e-mail, check Facebook, scroll Instagram, thumbs hurt from texting, it's hard to pause sometimes. 

bathroom epiphanies.

all the things I've never been,

I wondered if I could be them.

the re-wiring of a brain

to perceive reality in a new way

takes some heavy breathing.

the release of the intangible inheritance of all that has formed me

and the ecstasy of becoming someone new

in an exercise of the human condition...

how to play with loneliness from different angles.

all the things I've never been,

all the things I'm becoming...

patient for decisions in time

a practiser of Arabic for the third time round and guitar for the second

friend before romance

hair dyed so bright to make you squint looking for my intelligence, so that I can question yours,

made of cuddle puddles - if you've never heard of them they are defined as melting pots of feels where we hold each other in all the complications instead of running away... (I highly recommend this one),

not giving a shit about what other people think because that is truly exhausting,

but still loving those silly other people, equal to the dear one I now love most,

     this little lady right here.

thanks for witnessing.

to all the things I am transforming. like a superhero. with magic hair.

there's a shapeshifter in the mirror,

bathroom epiphanies.

so for those who fear the pain of repeating it again,

and those who fear fear

and those who fear the night where we find ourselves

and those who fear the light outside the lines,

well actually I have nothing to say to you but basically

it doesn't have to be perfect,

and won't be anyways

so we might as well

try a little re-wire and

laugh while we're here.

that seemed like some serious statements, like a poem can't be funny.  

but remember when we laughed? it was it

is the most real I ever feel even though I often talk about feelings, which

is the default setting I can lean on for consistency but I'm trying different settings now.

like an upgrade on my 5SE while I sit and shit.

bathroom epiphanies. 

funny thing is

how am I dealing with my unhappiness? I'm smothering it in joy.  

and it's fucking working.