One) Hawk. Always inviting me. Same spot every time. Bidding me a good day of clarity and high vision.
Two) It's not as cold as he said it might be. This sweater us fuzzing up where the most movement happens: under my arms, along the sides of my chest/breasts. But, I love this grungy sweater.
Three) About the sweater. This ragged sweater is a she-shed companion, especially in the winter when the shed is doing it's best to keep out the December chill and my little heater is pumping away. I feel like Mr. Rogers when I change into it before working out in the shed.
Four) This tea, I love it so much. Lavender Earl Grey with a splash of vanilla cream.
Five) I finally light the candle. I ask St. Jude and make a sweet-grass offering.
Six) I miss her. I wish things were different and we were still friends. The kind that would spend hours on the phone or exchange ideas over Skype while sipping on our favorite teas. She was my Best Friend. I think of her often and winter always brings on the bittersweet memories. I will always love her and consider her my soul-kin. I told her I would never give up on her, our friendship. It takes so much out of me to allow the death of our relationship. This will be something I will grieve over from time to time. But, still...Love.
Seven) Hope. All I got right now.
Eight) Not too much incense. I only burn half the stick.
Nine) Writing. I'm counting on the words to set me free. They always do.
Ten) A birthday reservation at our favorite restaurant. Every year since I met him.
Eleven) Coyote. Still.
Twelve) She said laughter can lift us out of our darkness.
Thirteen) Grief. Taking it slow for now. I am a soul in recovery...for life.
Fourteen) This quote:
All you need to do to create is: stand out of the way." --Dr. Clarissa P. Estés
Welcome to my Virtual Journal. Here you will find #fieldnotes of a Medial Woman. I write unabashedly imperfect, mostly short, even one-line word play. I share story. I share- first, my process. I view my life-living as a grand experiment and I am taking notes, mapping a trail by moments, stories and synchronicities.
I write about...