Dear WEb,
I am not sure what to write. There is much to write/record...but what is here right now that wants to be written?

"Through a keyhole of a needle, you must pass through all alone..." Chris Williamson's lyrics

I am approaching this keyhole through a needle. I can feel the constriction that squeezes me inside and out. I get waves of nausea and a warble sensation that makes me close my eyes because I feel like the ground is shifting and I may pass out or throw up. My class is more intense-the days are moving towards my birthday--towards THE anniversary--relations seem to be intensifying so much i go in and out of not recognizing myself, not knowing where I stand, who I am. The ground is shifting beneath me. Today during an Authentic Movement session, I let my body tell me a story: my hands began digging a hole in the ground...digging, digging, digging. I scattered the dirt between my legs like a dog would, preparing a place to bury a bone. Instead, this hole was a place to yell to Phoenix, to wail more grief, to bury myself away from complication, consuming complication, raw energy that consumes my attention, my focus and demands attention/action, be it emails, phone calls etc. So, I silently scream into this hole I've dug, then move around it and place my cheek and ear to the opening, listening, feeling for some something. Is it solace? Is it assurance that I will be ok? That everything I love will be ok?

Sometimes it feels like way too much to be in this world, even with all the love and support so within reach, beside me, behind me, everywhere. It's almost like my body cannot sustain this intensity. My breath cannot take in enough air, my heart cannot find a slower pace...I am aging too fast. Like those time-lapse photos where the image's natural change that usually takes days of increments, is speeded up to seconds. What's the hurry? I ask Her. I feel too much pressure. Like others know who I am and I cannot see what/who they see. I know I am not ordinary, that's for sure. But who am I Becoming through this passage I must pass through all alone?

Yes, alone. Without Phoenix.
Chris sings back: "It's a tale of Transformation, it's a tale of coming Home."
I respond: "Coming home to who?!! I do not recognize Myself/Home without my Beloved. No matter how much my life seems to be going on, how much I seem to be going on with the Loss. I am fundamentally missing Myself/Home with Phoenix." No one but me will ever understand that and all will eventually give up trying to convince me otherwise. It/I am a lost cause. I will never heal this. No matter what Good has come. And much has. I do not deny that. Miracles and Goodness. And...this is irreparable. Some things are. I cannot be saved from that truth.

Me