Somewhere along the way I meandered away from myself. So gradually, I didn’t realize how far I had gone. I opened my eyes to find myself lost in the dark. Deep in the forest with no way of knowing how I had arrived or how to get back.
So I’ve been slowly making my way back home, feeling around in the dark. Turning all sorts of attention inward in moments of stillness and quiet.
I like to imagine myself, as well, readying my home. With lush houseplants and gentle paintings. Establishing safety and fostering a cozy environment. Maybe running a warm bath and lighting the fireplace. Heating a kettle for a cup of tea. Establishing a life that I don’t want to distract myself from.
The way back home to myself has been incredibly difficult, painful, and disorienting. But I’m here and I’m safe. I’m well nourished and well loved. And I’m grateful to share with you in the ways you’d like to participate.
A signed copy of Ross Gay’s “Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude” is slowly on it’s way to me. I think this part of my life could really be titled the same. Dear Lord, I think that could be the title of this day and this week, this month, this year. The sun flooded the window and
I’ve been surrounded by some really wonderful people here recently. I think that’s really important, you know. They say you become a combination of your five closest friends, so be intentional when you’re choosing with whom to spend your time. When I consider the strong and kind people who show up for me and support
A Thousand Bad Times Read More »
Let me tell you about Honey. To know Honey you’ve got to know Jasper. Jasper was my dog of five years, through thick and thin until death did we part. A black Poodle mix with chocolate eyes and a soft, anxious heart. Jasper passed about a year ago. When I lost Jasper, I lost a
I think it’s important to share with you a bit of my personal theology. (And a bit of my love for etymology at the same time.) The word “spirit” shares root with “breath(e)” which isn’t as obvious in English as it is in Spanish’s “respirar” or the cognate “respiration.” But we see it in word’s
It is currently the dead of winter, also known as the middle of March. Today, I find myself snowed in, lazily crocheting with my phone in the other room. Slowly collecting fiscal documents to file taxes next month. Sipping hot coffee and eating fresh fruit. I’ve been doing my best to rest during this long
I’m sick as a dog (again). My nose is running like a tap; and my head feels like a balloon has been inflated inside me, expanding under my cheeks and also between my teeth and out my eyes. My kneecaps are achy and my back is sore. I’d like to tell you that I’m miserable
Things have a funny way of working out sometimes. I guess what I’m trying to say is that despite the math and the calculations, I haven’t starved to death. And I haven’t missed a bill or payment. (Well, except the one month I did forget and racked up a few Hamilton’s worth of interest and
I ran into my friend at the laundromat the other day. She switched back to Tide detergent. Temporarily. With a lot of guilt and yucky feeling about it. She usually smells like a mix of sweet lavender laundry soap and patchouli and a gentle wood stove. I confessed to her that I had just bleached
Poetry at the Laundromat Read More »
About a month ago, I learned how to change my oil. I was very patiently taught. Very kindly guided. Tools were provided, my actions were spotted, and I was surrounded by a team of grown-up adult supporters who handed me both tools and advice as needed. A week ago, I thought I’d change some oil
My current favorite sweatshirt has a John Deer tractor on it. It’s old. It was my grandpa’s–it has his name JAMES DAVISON in black permanent marker on the inside collar. He collected tractors. I used to wear this sweater out to look at the stars when I still lived in Arkansas. It was in much
I think the stars Did Read More »