Ancient Stag
Written prose, referring back to our natural selves, seeking safety in the natural world, keeping it real, authenticity, spirits in nature.
Omens on the AM
Synchronicities, finding meaning in the everyday, giving meaning to, reverie, realization, family curses.
Stripping Down
Writing prose, the new role of a middle aged woman, going back to simplicity, realness, back to herself.
Paradoxical Karma
Writing though it seems almost impossible at times; writing to find clarity, finding meaning amidst chaotic circumstances, connecting with ancestral karma.
Disillusion
Written prose on family, nostalgia, polaroid moments, getting real, what never was, what didn’t come.
Vulture
Vulture as a totem, a powerful sign, reminder of an alternative view of the world today, a way of releasing, of finding peace; the art of personal power and detachment.
Slither
Year of the wooden snake, preparation, clearing up the old, finishing up, witnessing change, what has is not yet manifest, still not formed.
Rite of Passage
Written prose, short piece. A simple walk to the local convenience shop, midday in winter, and the whisper from the wind: it’s more than it appears to be.
Prayer to go
Help my impulse, let only the purest emerge, don’t allow me to think, enough pondering has been done here. Rush me toward my truest reality, that sudden drive to your designed road, that which is my true node, the vector of my mission. Whisper it to me in sleep, the ending words ever so loud, definite phrases to broaden my glance, to see the path set forth, and faith awaiting those first steps. Appease this mind and its lunar phases, its flippant nature, steady me into the ground indicated, all its grain. Allow me to merge with the observant mountains, the steadfast trees, the pounding headaches of the city, even its decay. Train my instinct, prop it up with your breath, make it your most faithful servant, even wiser than my thoughts. Gift me the beat of thunder in my footsteps, a sense of safety for the unchartered land. Leave my mind vacant of choice, hold her down under your gaze, contained. Give us the great halt. Tame our horses into the next level of freedom, steady our anxious needs, the aimless roaming, delusion. Make us sturdy again, fit for the job of carrying forth only what is truly yours.
Autumn shades
Short piece, written prose. Autumn season, witnessing father’s diminishing body, slowing down of faculties, acknowledging a life lived, senior slowly shedding his body.