The One Who Brought Me Beauty
A gratitude note to someone from my past: The strongest of us may need someone to remind us that we also need beauty, love & harmony to make survival a life.
A gratitude note to someone from my past: The strongest of us may need someone to remind us that we also need beauty, love & harmony to make survival a life.
I woke up two nights ago, not knowing why I was awake. No sound had disturbed me, it wasn’t time to wake up.
We are all angry. Seething and out for blood. Where do we go from here? The pandemic has been the arsenic cherry on the difficult lessons of a decade.
There is an interesting thing about memory foam. It yields to your touch & pressure. Not fast, not reacting. More like an indulgence, a consideration. Later it pauses with the impression you’ve left on it, as if ruminating. Just as meditatively it returns to its original self.
A house that is a warzone. A courtroom for custody battles. Dumping ground for other people’s pain. My body.
If I were fifteen years younger, I’d identify as nonbinary. Gender has been the biggest weapon of the beaten path.
Feeling the tug between two places – one that feels like home and one that is dutifully home.
The second dark COVID of my soul is here except it doesn’t feel quite as dark. I feel stupid and it is peaceful.
‘From Scratch’ on Netflix made me realise the world doesn’t know how & why death shows up. How can we answer why people turn out as they do?
Giving sex an easy place in my mind, required moving around the furniture inside my head – old traumas, inherited shame, cultural taboos. This book taught me flying.