in the air

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sneezes

in the air

afloat everywhere

set free

 

it’s own current

sent past our globe

our breathing

turns the planet

 

birds soar on

its current

bringing the bees

and all their work

 

the miracle

of movement

stems from little old me

hold on to your galaxy

 

2/26/08

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singing for the fields

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three hills,

rainbows

back & forth

connecting all

 

creating

a ribcage

of sorts,

transparent

 

structure & strength

holding in

vibrations

and sounds

 

the ground

shaped as

a shallow

dish

 

reflecting

and

containing

all the love

 

nine people

in the center

concentric

rings all around

 

from their throats

from their hearts

syllables  made

of vowels

 

held in

the dish

of the land

and our beings

 

the chakra

of the region

aligning to

create a new wellness

 

breath

breathing

imagining

imagine

 

6/5/04

 

A Force is Born… or, A Box of Saws

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i’ve never pondered my conception before this moment, and if it’s true that we pick our parents

my parents had only known each other a very short time. after 10 days, they married, it was a late May wedding at the courthouse. the following April i was born…i came through them. the miracle, the assault, the awakening, the beginning of a rush of life, a stream of growth, pain and challenge.  as i look back, look at, allow a new version, a new vision…i see that it’s time to take off the glasses of horrors and look through the lens of Force.

Me. the Force. i forced my way in and through. i had a voice and i had momentun. i had my father’s heart & eyes & ears. he heard and saw me and was a fan of mine, cultivating where he could, the voice and power of the Force.  at birth, my parents named me and the  force  of a grandmother steps in and declares that my name ought to be and will be Candice WHOOSH. the dog also dies the day i am born—-making way for, Me.

the stage is set and i love to be on it. i am in my glory, on stage i flow, i sing, i am a channel of humor, joy and light. HA- how about that! i can sing and dance and make you laugh. oh , the shows i used to put on, what fun i had flowing and glowing and then i was stopped and i barely made it out alive. it’s only now that i finally have this other view. this look at the real me, not just the pained me.

so, i was stopped- forced to retreat, feel insane, to detach, to dissociate….for survival.   this became my breath….3 years of torture alters breath- and i never said a word.   never.      

i silently lived in terror, desperation and constant upheaval. to keep my breath, to keep breathing the same air inside my matchbox-over & over. i didn’t know.

i’m only now getting  fresh air at 43. thank  god and all that has served to wake me up…i am so truly grateful.

creating this constant regurgitation has been exhausting, beyond stale is the air.

and somehow a boy, a son, a wonder has grown in this environment of mine that has been so stifled and riddled with constipation.

surely the most glorious and colorful creatures  have grown in, and out of the cracks and crevices of the stoney mountains that we call ourselves.

i grew through the tangle of my parents and the filth they brought to my life.

somehow that seed in me continues to have that urgency, that inclination to break though and force its way through the blockades and avalanches.

no more emergencies, no more stale air. it’s time for wide open spaces…i have a life to create.

beauty that has the force of a freight train behind it

songs to sing and jokes to tell

stories  and tales  to write

dances to create

hands to hold and lips to kiss

air to breathe and diving into water

sunshine to allow in

love to give

friendships to tend

and

other Forces to mingle with

yes!