Teaching has a lot of shakti. Writing has shakti. September is for balance, the mediation of all this voltage, and the pleasures of the color gold. I invert myself, with others, above the river in early Fall, or the first day of Fall, then go home. Last night, I dreamed of a tree that was filled with eight or nine mountain lions; they were three-quarters mountain lion and one-quarter hawk.
I thought I might have a dream like that last night, but I only remember dreaming that I told some man that I needed to lose 10 pounds and he said, "No, you need to gain 10 pounds." So, there's that.
At brunch, C. and I talked about serving the poetry/art/music, instead of using the poetry/art/music to serve your ego. Tapping into a water table of poetry, etc. We kept extending the metaphor until it became pleasantly absurd, and C. ended up telling me not to make poetry smoothies that would poison people. (I won't. Hopefully.)
I'm feeling the need to invert myself. I will work up to that again.