Sunday, April 29, 2012
I am not perfect nor imperfect. I am not my sorrow nor my joy. I am not what you see nor am I what you imagine. I am not what you desire and I am not what you've decided I am.
I am not here, but I am not invisible.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
(Even if it means suffering is imminent & unavoidable. That's the next conversation.)
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Sunspots on the back of the left hand, as had by the mothers I grew up around, who chopped without cutting boards, peeling cucumbers and slicing them against their thumbs, letting the pieces drop into a bowl.
(And later, so many years later, an elder remarking that I sliced the carrots into my salad the way women from "the old country" chopped veggies.)
Tattoo. Ask Baba to write down the word, and size it, and send it, and don't tell him why. Sit with with a 22 year old witch who doesn't seem to know her power yet as she dips a needle into India Ink and pierces your skin gently and repeatedly until the intention won't ever let you forget it again.