We are on fire out here, again. The wind, despite how I may love her, is cruel. And yet, the presence of her here is electrifying. My hair tingles at the places where it meets my scalp. Before, I am asleep. Now, I am suddenly awake. At the group meeting, we sit in a circle. …
For any of you in the Ventura/LA County areas who are hurting with the shooting and the fires, here is an event I am hosting with some other wonderful women. For kids, friends, neighbors, and anyone who needs some friendship. Big love to you all.
I was looking for my anger over the last few days, wondering why it wasn’t here. Anger about my community. About what we are all going through. To be honest, though, I speak from luxury. I really do. I didn’t lose a home. I didn’t lose family or friends in the shooting. I am still …
Continue reading Re-Directed Anger: To All My Armchair Warriors
View from a mile down the road: If you didn’t know, after my last post about the shooting, my community has since been on fire (I just got internet access back). What a fucking week. I went from a town vigil to evacuating Adam’s mom to then evacuating myself and my family. Not to …
Continue reading From Bullets to a Fire
Today when Adam left for work, we spent a long time in the doorway wrapped up in each other’s arms. A long time. An I-don’t-want-to-let-you-go amount of time. How fucking lucky am I that I still have him to hold onto, because some of my neighbors woke up without that gift. Some fathers today woke …
Continue reading When it Hits Home: A Shooting Next Door
Alright. We’ve figured out the source of my varying afflictions: I’ve got bronchitis. Cheers. It certainly explains the foggy week I’ve had. Not the best—and certainly it did not end as such. However, I came home to find a ring-necked dove eating the chicken scratch laid out in my yard, and that was rather nice and …
Continue reading Coffeeshop Musings
There is Sagebrush, growing on the lining of the trail. It is medicinal in all the ways it plants its healing essence in my mind. The scent of it, smokey and wild, like cedar, rich and smooth but thick with how it clings heavy in the air. When I pluck a branch, the syrup of …
Continue reading Sights and Scents and Dreams of California
When I speak, the ghost of self leaks out my mouth. Like smoke, or vapor. My fingers curl out from my nostrils. I am watching the all of me cast out and drive away. It is too hot here. And the world is far too sad. There is too much anger for the sadness, as if we …
Continue reading Bird Watching
The Wild Heart of Life 