Well, this just goes all over the place

Dear Blog,

I'm sorry I yelled at you.

Love Kellie

P.S. Someone needs to make sure that Santa Barbara gets the memo that I am trying to graduate in her city this weekend and would prefer it if half the buildings are still standing.

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I watched some of my students run around on a stage in tutus and flowers and missed Dance, where the most beautiful line you can draw extends from the tip of your fingers to your Heart and the higher you hold your head, the more radiant you Are. Not just look. Are. 

Mmmm, Hume, you've forgotten that I'm here but I see you--in your chapels and your trees and the families that cuddle close together like birds in a nest and stare, confused, at the sparrow alone on the branch in the next tree because instead of a nest she lives in a Cave and instead of companions she has ... mice.

Still, I've grown quite close with the trees and will soon experience the jolting assimilation back into cement culture. In fact, this summer promises many culture shocks: from the Mountain-top retreat to an overnight room in my parents' home, to an airplane, to an Ocean, to the Land of Spirit, then Vagabonding it across that Green Island, then back home to... work? To find a way to fund graduate school? To live again behind a desk where the Man signs my paycheck? (ick)

Then, I commence The Move to the Bay Area where the only familiar face is the Bridge and the only Home is at most two years long.

Mmm, I could use a Settling after all this nonsense. 

I'd be alright with change if at least one thing stayed the same but the moment I get comfortable, the world shifts and I'm left with my feet dangling off the Cliff and even if I don't Breathe, the breeze knocks me over.

Bah humbug. I am in Love with the Sky and with the Sea but neither notice me so I stick my toes in the Shore: she and I wait for ... 

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One, two three ... I live alone in a basement and I understand the extremes of tranquility and anxiety. One is for Spirit, two is for Guide, three is for the Friends that sit in my chest and remind me in the latest of nights that the Dark contains light. 

I've had insomnia for weeks now and I can't decide if it's anticipation, stress, hope, discomfort ... but something keeps me up at night staring at the ceiling till two a.m., thinking Loneliness and counting wrinkles but, ultimately,

concluding in the whispered prayer.

thus: He--Still--the Constant.