And the transformational power of grieving well.
Grieving through a case of the "fuck-its".
Little shifts, hopping tracks.
Knocked on my ass to look at my life.
Space to breathe.
Solitude has served its purpose.
A woman's privilege of surrender.
My hammock smells like an old musty sail. Everything is thick and sticky this time of day, this time of year, as clouds churn and work themselves into sweaty storms. As humans push against the heavy heat to "get it all done" before the sky dumps. Thunder rolls and lets us know how close we … Continue reading Summertime
Cuz I guess they're kinda cool.
An energy healer in a pandemic.