2023: August 17th

August 17th, 2023

I had very interesting dreams last night, nonetheless, undoubetdly sparked by this process, and I realize a lot of things. I did a short shamanic journey in the morning, processing, after a bit of using the voice and feeling the body move, and one of the images I had put in the recycling bin was large in my mindʻs eye. I could feel the support of my own inner safe space I had created with my creativity and the presence of a giraffe, communicating, communication, this is healing, somehow.

I came to the realization that the art pads have sat there, because, it can be hard to sit with the pictures, and really look at them, and as I do, I sit with the one that was by the style that loves line drawing, simple marks, and scribbles, and I remake the story.

Continuing to process: I pulled two of the drawings out of the recycling to do more work in releasing and letting go. Realizing, my orifices, these need to be honored, and energies set aright.

PROCESSING THE IMAGE IN WRITING

she sits, her body solid, like a mountain. A mighty extraction from every orifice of her body of every story, every belief, every word, every tone, every texture that no longer serves. As the mountain her top comes off it arises from her belly, the lava flows, and these textures, they are consumed by the gift of this unimaginable heat. this is a safe zone she declares, he declares, we all declare. All these orifices, safe zones, from the first breath to the last. We rest in ease, and safety, and witness what sought to be witnessed. I am so sorry for your pain, for the depth of your suffering, for all those who were a part of those moments of things this body once knew. The pins in the cells of the bodies. The foreign words and objects filled with malice, greed, self-loathing and hatred that entered the anus, that entered the vagina, that entered the urethra, that entered the mouth, that entered the ears, that were seen with eyes, that seeped into our skin and attempted to flow in our blood and our bones. Forgiveness is letting go, and never forgetting, and becoming one more voice of resiliency saying, no more, this is the line, this is the boundary, no more for this body, and so it is.

Collaborating with ChatGPT

rewrite in M.A. voice - go into this.

Perched in stillness, her form akin to a steadfast mountain. A formidable extraction, each narrative, every belief, every utterance, every resonance, every sensation that's outworn its purpose, flows ceaselessly from the recesses of her being. Like molten lava surging forth from her core, the pinnacle of her essence awakens, a cascade of these textures engulfed by the unrelenting fervor of this unimaginable fervency. Within this realm she proclaims her sanctuary, he proclaims, we all raise our voices in unison. Every opening, sanctuaries of reprieve, from maiden breath to final sigh. Here we repose, cradled in tranquility and refuge, bearers of all that clamored to be beheld.

I extend my deepest remorse for your agony, for the profundity of your affliction, for all those entwined in the moments that once etched their mark upon this corporeal vessel. The pricks in the confines of our cellular architecture. The alien lexicon and objects replete with malice, avarice, self-contempt, and animosity, that infiltrated the sanctity of the rectum, the womb, the urethra, the oral realm, the portals of audition, that met our gaze with eyes wide, that seeped into our dermis and aspired to course through our bloodstream and marrow. Redemption blossoms by release, an eternal remembrance melded with an unyielding resolve, culminating in yet another resolute voice of endurance declaring, no more, this threshold is set, no more for this sanctified embodiment, and so it stands.

rewrite in Rapi Kapur

Seated firm, a mountain's grace resides within her form. Unyielding, she releases every narrative, every belief, each syllable and tone, textures worn and faded, from every pore. Like molten currents surging from her depths, the apex of her being unfurls, consuming these textures in the flames of searing passion. A sanctuary proclaimed, by her and by us, a haven from first breath to last sigh. We rest here, cradled in safety and solace, bearing witness to all that craved acknowledgment.

For your pain, for the depths of your suffering, for those woven into the fabric of memories this vessel once held, my heart aches. The pricks in the cells' confinement. The foreign words and objects, bearers of malice, greed, self-loathing, and spite, that trespassed into intimate spaces, seeking to possess. Forgiveness, a tapestry woven of release and remembrance, a chorus of resilient voices declaring, no more, this is the boundary, for this sacred embodiment. And so it echoes.

rewrite like David Sedaris

Picture this: she's planted like a mountain, a human monument to unwavering resolve. Imagine the great exodus of stories, beliefs, words, and all that jazz, making a break for it from every nook and cranny of her being. It's like a clearance sale on the aisle of life – everything must go, and boy, is it going. Then, out of nowhere, here comes the grand finale! From deep within, a belly eruption of liquid drama, the lava lamp of emotions going bonkers. And just like that, those pesky textures are toast, sizzled by the heatwave of epic proportions.

"Attention, everyone! This area is now a designated safety zone!" she cries, he cries, we all cry in unison. All exits marked 'safe haven' from birth's debut to the ultimate mic drop. So there we are, lounging in comfort, safeguarded from life's little dramas, sipping on a cup of introspection.

Sorry, your pain, yeah, it's a bummer. Seriously, I'd give it a one-star review on Yelp. And let's not forget the souvenirs – those pins, those foreign objects that made trespassing an art form. I mean, who invited those guys to the party? Forgiveness, it's like saying, "Hey, you can keep the drama, but I'm taking the remote control." So here we are, waving the banner of resilience, united in a resounding chorus of "no more!" We've got our lines, our boundaries, and we're not afraid to use them.

mixing sedaris and angelou

. Forgiveness, it's not about forgetting; it's like giving your emotional baggage a one-way ticket to Bermuda. Now we stand united, voices of resilience harmonizing, shouting "No more!" Armed with boundaries, we've got the keys to our own fortresses.

Seriously, though, the pricks of memory are like thumbtacks in the upholstery of our being.

safe zones

the orifices

declared as safe zones

in my little body

aged birth to toddler

and because it is safe then, it ripples into now

safe

safe

safe

first gasp, last breath

the canyon answers

she sits solid

like a mountain

as the mountain of ancient memories carried forward

the memory of crying backsides

and bleeding rectums

holes too small for anything, even fingers

she cries out 

NOOOOOOOOO

the canyon answers

it reverberates to the core of mother earth, Papahānaumoku, Gaia

she hears, listens, weeps, for she too knows the pain of rape of resources

protect the babies

protect the toddlers

protect our mother even, our grannies, shut down our wombs and say no more

protection first

say yes to no child ever being harmed in such a way

she sits, I sit, and in the sitting, we take our power back

the power of the back side

in our solid sit

up from Earth

Voices sing, speak, invoke and invite the light

the supportive ones

whoosh comes the healing

it has been waiting just for this moment, this request

and so it comes.

it comes, it comes, it comes, and it returns with a smile

the midback clears

the right scalpula clears

the small tensions, the large tensions, they clear with the intendings

the misalignment and ancient tensions unravel

to align with laughter

soft farts as giggles

rage runs as a red river 

the heat scorches the paper, the land, the earth

singeing what seeks to be singed

get out of our bodies

now

you no longer belong here

this is our space alone

with a mighty whoosh we send it all back

to the sender, to the doer

and the rage must be felt

because this is a part of the nature of love

to feel the appropriate feelings

in response to what had happened

i am sorry, but forgiveness canʻt come without acceptance first,

the fact that it happened, and fessing up.

however you can, fess up, and tell it, tell those secrets,

to whoever will listen

tell those damn secrets

prove them wrong

they wonʻt die me or die you if you tell

your body wonʻt turn into concrete

you wonʻt be burned alive in the ceramics kiln, or be buried alive

they lied to make you afraid

and now, there is no need of telling lies.

or believing lies

what is a lie?

i am not altogether sure, you tell me,

but i know how it feels, and i imagine you do to.

let the truth of your life, your story,

the integrity of your being

come into perfect alignment

with your most brilliant destiny.

Asking ChatGPT to reflect, then improve the poem

You've crafted a heartfelt and empowering piece that delves into the themes of safety, healing, and reclaiming personal power. Your words express a journey from vulnerability to strength, and from confronting painful memories to finding the path of self-acceptance and resilience. The imagery of sitting solid like a mountain and reclaiming space within your own body is particularly evocative.

Your writing emphasizes the importance of acknowledging and feeling the appropriate emotions as a part of the healing process. The message of fessing up, telling the secrets, and proving those who sought to harm you wrong, is powerful and encouraging. Your words carry a sense of reclaiming your narrative and your own truth, regardless of the lies that were once told.

The blending of personal experience, reflection, and empowerment resonates strongly throughout your piece. Your message is clear: there is strength in breaking the silence, acknowledging the pain, and finding healing and acceptance on your terms. Your writing captures the complexities of these emotions and experiences, creating a narrative that speaks to the journey of overcoming and triumphing over adversity.

Safe Zones

Orifices declared sanctuaries,

Innocence preserved from birth's dawn,

Nurtured from toddler days,

Safety resonates, perpetuates.

Solid as a mountain, she sits,

Recalling tearful backside tales,

Bleeding rectums and aching holes,

Spaces too small for intrusion.

A resounding cry echoes, "NOOOOOOOOO,"

Reaching deep into Mother Earth,

A plea to shield the innocent,

To guard the toddlers, embrace their worth.

Reclaiming power, she persists,

In solid stance, backside's might,

Summoning the golden threads of healing,

Long-awaiting this potent rite.

With a rush, the torrent arrives,

Midback's relief, scalpel's grace,

Misalignment bows to laughter,

Rage flows, igniting the space.

Rivers crimson singe the land,

Burning paths for truth's release,

Out of bodies, now expelled,

A declaration, a firm decrease.

Send it back to sender's door,

Undo the harm, revoke the hold,

Mighty whoosh, powerful roar,

Reclaiming what had been stolen, cold.

Rage's fire, a rightful part,

Embracing feelings, fierce yet true,

Nature of love, to heal the heart,

Let them surface, let them through.

Apologies falter, forgiveness waits,

Acceptance a prerequisite, a must,

Beneath the weight, the burden's weight,

Secrets spoken, trust in you placed.

Lies that once instilled the dread,

Fear's dominion, a cruel charade,

No longer will dictate your stead,

In truth's embrace, courage displayed.

Lies, mere falsehoods, now they fade,

Uncloaked by the light of self-awareness,

Defying the darkness where they laid,

Truth revealed, no longer in despair.

What is a lie? A hollow mirage,

Yet feelings validate their essence,

Your journey reclaims truth from sabotage,

Healing blooms, transcending pretense.

Certainly, here's a refined version of your poem that's tailored for the style often found in publications like The New Yorker:

Safe Zones

Orifices, sanctuaries declared,

In my young frame's realm, birth to toddler.

Safety, a whispered inheritance,

Passed down with each pulse of time,

Persisting, an unbreakable thread.

Seated, resolute as a mountain's form,

Recalling tender tales of backside tears,

Tiny bleeding rectums, spaces so slight,

Even fingers struggled to trespass.

Her voice, a resonating NOOOOOOOOO,

Echoes through Mother Earth's core,

Championing the innocence of babes,

Guarding the toddlers, their innocence,

A pledge, a vow to never know such harm.

She claims her sovereignty in that sit,

Channeling power through her very core,

Inviting the golden light of healing,

Patiently biding its time for this conjuring.

And it arrives, a long-awaited arrival,

Emanating, suffusing the aching voids,

Midback and scalpula align with mirth,

Gentle chuckles escape, soft farts mimic giggles.

Rage courses, a red river ablaze,

Scalding the landscape where pain once roamed,

A melodious incantation, ablution of wounds,

Singing the truth that sought release.

Be gone, intruders of flesh,

Begone, you no longer hold dominion,

This is a realm reclaimed, sanctified,

With a resounding whoosh, all returns,

Sender to doer, harm undone.

And the rage, oh the rage,

An embrace, an elemental force of love,

Feeling, feeling it all, as is rightful,

For love's nature resides in understanding,

A response to the symphony of transgressions.

Apologies linger, forgiveness as yet distant,

Acceptance, the threshold to redemption,

Fess up, unburden the vaults of secrecy,

Tell it all, share your truth with ears that listen,

Confessions, a rebuke to deceit's power.

They whispered lies to breed fear,

Lies that bound, suffocated,

But the grip has loosened,

No more need for their tales,

Truth, an elixir for emancipation.

Lies unravel, truths unfold,

Emergence from the shadows of deception,

The lie, a mirage dismissed,

Feel the truth, embrace its resonance,

A shared experience, a familiar echo.

Align the narrative, weave the tapestry,

Life's symphony of truth and resilience,

Forge the bridge to your destiny,

Where integrity and story coalesce,

Revealing your most radiant fate.

This version maintains the essence of your original piece while shaping the language and structure to align with the literary style often found in The New Yorker. It emphasizes the themes of healing and empowerment through a refined and nuanced approach.

Sanctuaries of Solace

Within, declared sanctuaries of solace,

In my tender frame's arc, birth to early bloom.

A heritage whispered softly through the ages,

Endures with each fleeting heartbeat's pulse,

Persisting, an ethereal whisper of time.

Seated, an ancient mountain's tranquility,

Recalling the tales of tear-stained innocence,

Bleeding back passages, crevices too delicate,

Even fingers shy away from venturing.

Her voice, a resounding NOOOOOOOOO,

Ripples through Earth's core, cosmic cry,

A guardian of newborn light, an oath,

Protecting the toddlers, the burgeoning souls,

A vow to shield them from such harm's embrace.

She claims her sovereignty in resolute repose,

Summoning her core's wellspring of strength,

Inviting the luminous embrace of healing,

Awaiting, patient, for this sacred moment's emergence.

And arrive it does, a long-awaited dawn,

Radiating, weaving through once empty spaces,

Midback's alignment, a dance with joy,

Laughter finds its echo, gentle chuckles bloom.

Rage courses, a scarlet river ablaze,

Consuming the terrain where shadows reigned,

An aria of liberation, singing truths untamed,

Burning away the falsehoods that clung.

Banish, intruders of corporeal sanctum,

Begone, for your dominion's reign is done,

Reclaimed is this realm, consecrated anew,

With a profound exhale, all returns,

From sender to originator, undoing the transgressions.

And the rage, a tempest of love's depths,

In its embrace, the very soul's architecture,

For love's essence resides in understanding,

To feel, to honor the ripples of experience,

A symphony of emotions, the heart's response.

Apologies linger, forgiveness waits,

Acceptance, the precursor to transformation,

Confess, unburden the weight of secrecy,

Speak your truth to willing ears,

A declaration that shatters deceit's veil.

Lies whispered, seeds of trepidation,

Yet their shadows falter in truth's embrace,

No longer slaves to tales of illusion,

Truth, an elixir of liberation's essence,

No longer captive to untruth's grip.

Lies unravel, truths blossom,

Emergence from deception's embrace,

The lie, a specter vanquished,

Feel the truth's reverberation, an echo,

Shared resonance, a bond of understanding.

Align narratives, weave existence's fabric,

Life's tale of resilience and revelation,

Build the bridge to destiny's embrace,

Where integrity entwines with the tale,

Revealing the brilliance of one's truest path.

This version echoes Rainer Maria Rilke's introspective and contemplative style, reflecting on themes of healing and inner transformation. The language is measured, inviting introspection and connection with the journey of self-discovery.