you're so rock-n-roll.

You gotta rock-n- roll, girl. 

I am not saying you need to lift up. Or change up. Or fix up. Or brighten up.

Be sad. Be angry. Be a fucking fuming mad rock on a burning floor. Be wet like the rain or flaming like the forest in high desert in July. 

Be all the feelings. Let all the feelings be you. Why are we so ashamed and hide these feelings? My god, these feelings are life, fully lived. And you, of all people, you feel them, you become them. You are so rock-n-roll. 

You don’t need peace right now, don’t even try. Peace and bliss are over-rated in these moments. You don’t healing modules or crystals or a pretty yoga mat. You don’t need sacred text except for the hieroglyphcs on the palm of your hand and the streams of tears on your cheeks.  This isn’t about feeling better, okay? This is about feeling you. This is about sticking your tongue out.  This is about holding your middle finger up.  This is about saying shut up.  This is about slamming a door once in a while. 

Just paint your face up in blood reds and the blackest of blacks and slide metal and leather into your skin and over your wrists. Rip your t-shirt in half. Make your hair as big as your heart, as bold as your guts, or as smooth as your the waters you long to float on, the waters you are calling to just carry your weight, and you.

Also. Don't forget to say fuck it. 

Say fuck it a hundred times, over and over again.  Let Fuck It be your mantra, your chant, your practice for today. Fuck it.  And then fuck it over and over again with a ten foot long stone carved dildo until all the fucks are out of it. Until it’s impossible to fuck it anymore. 

Trust this path. 

Everything is going to be ok. I promise.

Every last ounce of pain. Trust it.  Trust it’s hard-edge slice and it’s high pitch cry and it’s agonizing wince. Trust the pounds of your fist on the wall or the crack you made in the plate when it somehow got thrown against the hardwood floor. Trust how loud you need this music to blare.  Trust that everything that feels hard and lost and out of control is the imprint for this moment of your soul.  Trust it down to the vibrating essence of all there is that totally sucks.  That this is your time to just be in it and don’t listen to the story that it’s wrong or needs to be over with or you need to get up and get moving on. Or you need to be happy. Or be Light. Or figure it out. Or find the deeper meaning. Because maybe there is no meaning.  Because this is it.  It’s goddamn dark. For right now. And when it’s not it, then the next thing will come and you’ll trust that too. 

Trust this path.  You carved it all by yourself. Trust that somewhere in a black hole or a glorious nebula or riding across the galaxy on some kind of flame-mobile, kicking off the moon, you knew exactly what you were doing. And that everything you have created you have created from Love.  Trust your love. 

Know all of this has been your choice.  All of it. You are the creator. You are god. You are all there was and all there will be.  And when you think of it that way, you have such fucking power. You’ve been the one and the only one who maps out your life and when you fall into pain like you’ve never known before, know it’s your greatest teacher, the one you chose. The one that brings you closer to you. And your pain is so beautiful and so true and it’s so much about you that you get all into it, you look at it like a sage, you bow to it, you light it on fire in ceremony. It is hallowed truth. It is your truth. It is you, and you are your everything. Claim that everything, god damn it.  Love it.   And bring love to it.  And you bring life right into yourself. And it feels like pain, yes, there are no other words for it,  but also like life, like love. Pain is love and love is life. 

I see it as a rose {i see everything in terms of roses these days for some insane reason}. A rose in full bloom and there is nothing so gorgeous and risky to get close to. To bend over into the bush. To take in its delight.  It smells so intense, sickening delicious, sinfully perfect, and it is the most beautiful speciman growing in the yard… and in one quick move it can draw the blood of life from you. It will pierce you, scratch you, warn you it is doing it's own thing and to stay back.  This is you right now. Doing your thing. Protected.  Warning the world to stay back.  

And if that aint’ rock and roll, I don’t know what is. 

I love you like this.  I love you when you question everything. When you reject everything. When you refute your own wisdom and always circle back home. You are an eternal student of this big holy love of a life. You are also the teacher.  Know that. Rock with it. Roll with it. Let all the feelings be you. Let it all be you. 

This is your life.  All of it. Even this part. And I think it's utterly breathtaking, gasp-in beautiful.

So. Thank you.