A Homecoming

It has been awhile, old friend. I have been writing, though not here. But I have missed this space, a longing in my heart to return, to come home.



Where have I been? Walking many, many miles—grounding deeply into the earth, feeling its energy, coming alive again. I have been connecting with the moon. Simultaneously learning her rhythms and learning my own. Moving into a deep, sacred understanding of how we both work, how we influence one another, how there is a way to take all of that energy and integrate it, alchemize it.



I have been healing. I have been нєαℓιиg. The suffering that I carried for four decades—the pain, the horror, the trauma. I have been honoring and releasing them. I have stopped poisoning myself. I have started to take care of myself. I have learned to accept the truth, that I must hold myself, that no one else was ever going to do that for me. And also that, it was important I learned how to do that because I would need to. I will always need to. And oh, my arms are so strong and my hands are so soft and my legs are so sturdy. What a gift. I have been standing taller and straighter. I have stopped shrinking, you know. I have learned to take up space and to find comfort, even here. 

Oh, I have learned to set boundaries and to enforce them. Oh, the stories I could tell you, friend.

I have been snuggling with my babies. Holding them like my life depends on it… and knowing, all the while, what it means to let go. I have been watching them learn and grow and stretch, and doing my damnedest to teach them the right ways, to teach them the truth as I know it. 

Sacred and holy these days have been. Aching and stretching and learning and giving. I am here. I am whole. I am light. 

The storms around me are raging, but inside of my rib cage is the moon. Soft and glowing and knowing. I am the moon. We are light. 🌙