JOURNAL
Intimate, Narrative Prose
One Year: March 16, 2020 – March 16, 2021
At 4:30 this morning, the dogs began barking like there was an intruder. You know the sound: high pitched, angsty, unapologetic. Relentless. There was a hint of an unfamiliar scent, almost reminiscent of skunk, but not quite. As I opened the door to let the...
Liminally Rooted
Seasonally and globally, we are in a liminal time—an in-between time. Often, this can feel a little uncomfortable, because there are many unknowns. Yet, intuitive writing asks us to slow down enough to access our senses ... until we can listen. Listen to what wants to...
Mountains and River
These mountains and this river speak to the spirit of my blood. It’s not my place of birth, but I feel the songs this place sings: The songs that trill and echo on the tip of the ridge, then bellow—the drum beat of Maa—in swells of flowing water. Eagle cries as she...
Tell Your Story
This Mad World
It feels like our world has gone mad. As though there is a madness that has seeped through us that's so deep and so wide, that it's allowed people to justify all kinds of atrocities. We've forgotten we are family. Distant cousins. Kin. Each one of us. When we actually...
Our Collective Journey
The mythopoetic reminds us that we are all on a journey. In a story. And what a story we’re all creating now, together, globally. It’s one of those times that our progeny will hear/read about. We’ll look back to see how we experienced it. The choices we made. Make no...
This Might Save Your Life
We live in a world of systemic disconnection … a disconnect from ourselves, one another, all creatures, Source, and the very land we live on. This disconnect is the root of all pain we see and experience. When we feel disconnected, we feel alone,...
What is Sacred Self-Expression?
Image of me, twirling hair (stimming), all sparkled up, expressing myself Over the past several years, I’ve become more clear about my purpose: Catalyzing and honoring our sacred self-expression so that we feel free and know we belong—to ourselves and to one another....
My Diagnosis + Liberation (Or: The Diagnosis of Liberation)
I’ve always known I’m different. As a young girl, I sought refuge in the forest, talking to trees, creeks, fairies. I lived within a rich world, teeming with imagination so tangible, I could touch it. Taste it. Feel it. Like magic, stories flowed out my fingers into...
For My Daughter: “Tonight I can write the saddest lines”
“Tonight I can write the saddest lines…” Neruda’s sentiments echo through me this evening as I recall my 10 year old daughter’s words: “I don’t think it’s smart to keep being myself. It makes things worse. People say I’m weird, crazy, psycho, strange. I think I have...
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