Wednesday of Spirit Week.

so. these are the things.  I have listened to Sharon Olds speak…if you don’t know her poetry, seek it out. she writes on motherhood and love for children and divorce and shame and sex and she does it in a kitchen table way . a salty broad. deeply intelligent and full of humor in the depths.

i have lit my candles. i have drawn my cards. I have avoided reading about ‘Death, reversed’, until i had to and then i found it satisfying.

I have listened to my friends talk.  I have tended the chickens with less annoyance and more enjoyment of the spring weather. I have had to buy another hat, because I was caught out in spring chill and sometimes it is colder than all other times of the year, this hopeful exposure.

i have taken a long and hot bath. I have let the battery on my phone stay uncharged. (oh god, just a little, but i did.)

i have installed hooks into each of the boys rooms. which doesn’t sound spiritually connected, but is.  when i’m doing an act of service for them that has been on my mental list for weeks, if not months, i feel deeply connected to my mothership. it is a slow game, frequently of exasperation and temper, and when i do something so simple and caring, it makes me feel like cashmere.

and therein lies Spirit. The Cashmere.

i bought myself tulips and I am watching them unfold. incredible work of nature.  I found the early blooming iris in my sunny spot. iris-like crocus, i think. so early. so resilient. year after year, solo, first color in the yard.  I have no memory of planting anything there. and there it is, again.

paying attention. paying attention. paying attention.

there is time for all of it. there just is.




raggedy bitch

so i am home with a child recovering from a night of throw up and fever. she responds like a champ to kids ibuprofen so right now she seems completely normal, like maddeningly normal. .  . but in 4.3 hours, when that dose runs out… its back to weep and groan and moan. . . so there. there is that.

i am mom, hear me roar. again.  this season has been ridiculous. RIDICULOUS.

its nice that so many years have passed of momming now… i get tired… but i’m not nearly as depleted as I was when it was new, and there were two under three… its a huge universe of different.

i’m not as ragged anywhere… sometimes i think back to that time and i wonder how i even got through it.  i was in a marriage that didn’t give me a feeling of safety, or any real sense of ‘break’… i was home with kids all the time and i was overwhelmed by all of it.  i was completely unsure that I existed, outside of what i ‘did’.

i was some kind of raggedy.

there is a real reservoir of peace in my life now.  it sits right next to the reservoir of fear that i also have.  twinning.

honestly, i can’t tell you if the peace pond has gotten deeper or if the fear reservoir is wider or if there’s more peace because the kids are older or because Hubs is out of the picture?  I mean, thats a whole lot of choice and powerful changes, right?

I was supposed to have a meeting with my Reiki teacher, chakra carol, today… but because of kid sickness it was cancelled.  I mean, if i had a dollar for every time i’d had to cancel something because of kids?  sheesh…

anyhow. so we talked on the phone and i bedazzled her with a million items to talk about before she waited me out to exhaustion. and then… things like this.

We are all on a journey to peace. we just don’t all know it.

Acknowledging the fear is the beginning of unraveling it.

I don’t have to go on a shamanic journey, naked in the desert, to deal with my fears, I just have to keep noticing them.  Noticing when I feel them, when I avoid them, what I think they might be…

and Not being ready doesn’t mean Never being ready.


So there are days like this, when little is done but laundry and a movie or two… and still, i can drift a thousand times more whole than i ever was before, and there is still work to be done. but here i am. existing.






i’m talking to myself as i walk through the house this morning, to myself, but in conversation with my kids (they are already at school).

I am talking to them about my dating, and the confusions I see in them about it.  The strange expectations they have. the mismatch between my romance and how it might effect them.   My hesitations to tell them stories, my separation of my ‘personal’ from my family.  I’m thinking too much about them, maybe. but then.   They’ve been through enough changes and I’m afraid of not being able to control this one.

that is the real root of it, right there.  I’m afraid of not being able to control things if I ever introduce another person to the mix. 0224191550

its been said, and it is true, that fear feeds on lies. and feeds us lies.

I’m not saying I’m introducing anyone.  I’m just saying that I may need to look into my feelings on this separation of church and state, because if fear is running my show, then I am doing some serious lying to myself.

lying. ugh. lies. and the lying liars who lie them.


what is it that I want to cultivate anyhow? FEAR?  hells bells . obviously no.

if I want to cultivate the LIGHT?  the HONEY DRIZZLED JOY?

what then?


synonym- i’m sick and this one is a little deranged. sorry. not sorry. welcome.

in trying to shift myself out of feeling like shit: almost all the synonyms for humble are bad. it boils down to doormat

how can this be? am i really a tool of the patriarchy?

i’m a flower in my hair, dirty-footed comfort mistress.   i’m grounded in the earth even as i hide in my wooden house and avoid touching all things natural… (it is the last day of February, and we’ve had a snowfall..) but i’ve got houseplants.



how could this person be a doormat?

don’t i throw on another beaded necklace, some rings and whisk that man right out of my hair?

but its not that simple. i can’t really wear rings as i find them too distracting, mostly. but i wish i could. my fingers are too thin, also, so its hard to find one in a store that fits. but so be it. i suppose the truth gets unbearably, boringly complicated.  who wants to read that?

i’m being treated for a double ear infection . went to the walk-in yesterday and am on antibiotics and garlic cloves in the ear. fragrant.  i’ve been in bed for most of the last two days.  i get up, get the kids ready and on the bus, take a bath and go back to bed.

this is my brain:

J’s right, you aren’t really working, you are just taking advantage of his money.  If you had a real job you wouldn’t be in bed, you’d be off to work. You can’t work at home. You’re not aggressive enough.  …But my ears! What if they got worse and then I was deaf? then what?  Yeah, but at least you’d be working, like a real man.  …I’m no man.  Yeah, but you should be. Thats who gets stuff done.

So. woah. right?

No announcement of sex restructuring coming anytime. HOWEVER. my brain is not doing me any favors. this isn’t going to help me get better in any way. Aren’t I in charge, at least nominally, of what goes on in there?  Can’t my gypsy woman come in waving her arms and slap some sense or quiet into my brain?



rings on her fingers and bells on her toes.

i’m just sick. let me lie down in peace. maybe i’ll get better quicker. (i’m talking to my brain)


i have another hour til the first kid gets home. evidently there is some new thing on fortnite so i’m sure i won’t see him til dinner.  banner parenting, banner.

love you guys, see you again soon.


(uwme)  you me. big smile .