from the neck

i've died twice in my dreams.

the first was years ago. it was a death modeled after my memory of a childhood friend's mother who died slowly at home, each sense slowly fading until only her ability to hear remained. they spent the last day or two of her life playing her favorite musical on repeat. in the dream, i was lying in bed, slowly feeling myself fade. it was like i was leaving layer after layer of myself, inhabiting less and less of my body until i was only this small kernel of existence inside my heart. and then even that was gone and i was cut off, discarding the shell of my flesh as i realized with a little sadness that i had died. a ghostly, diluted version of emotion of my former self. i lingered as a wraith for a few moments, hovering near my body, then i woke up.

last night was not like the first time. this was a sudden death. a death born from violence.

we had been trying to find something, meet up with someone or find a location. i am not sure what exactly, but there was a journey or a search, a sense of going toward something with a goal. and then we were on a train passing stylized houses and buildings reminiscent of images from wes anderson's moonrise kingdom i had seen the night before. after the pressure to do something surrounding the first part of the dream, it felt like a calm and steady ride, peaceful to just be in one place and be taken somewhere. but suddenly the train was stopped and scruffy men in tattered black clothes rushed in telling everyone to get down. my companion next to me quickly complied and maybe even tried to help me {there was concern from me coming from them, i could feel it}, but i wasn't fast enough and as the hijackers fired a shot into the cabin i knew i was hit. they got me at the base of my neck, just above my colar bone and i felt my death as a rush of warmth and red spreading out quickly from my throat. i had just enough time to register the finality of my death, witness it in slow motion replay from outside from the murderer's perspective before i woke up.

i believe death in dreams is a harbinger of change. in order to become something else something must end, a part of you must die. and in a way, i feel like the writing is on the wall, on all four walls, actually, coming at me from every direction as many important people in my life voice the same few words: you need to relax.

yes, i need to relax, breathe deeply, and trust. it's time to learn to trust again. starting here, now, with me. trusting myself. trusting my instincts, trusting my gut even when my brain is yelling to run for safety in the opposite direction. trusting that i've done my best, that my worth is not dependent on anything i am, think, or do. that it is this moment, the one i'm living and breathing into right now. now. now. now. nownownownownownownownownownow is all that matters.

i start my meditation practice today. now.

a little piece

i see that i am a little piece of a big, big universe, and that makes it right. 


hushpuppy from beasts of the southern wild

ocean portraits

highlights of a trip to the water {in no particular order} included {but were not limited to}:

--throwing handfuls of stones at the water and watching the variation in the speed and trajectory of each stone's arch toward the water's edge based off of its unique size and shape

--happening upon a herd of elk

--discovering the water to be tolerably temperatured, stripping down to my swimsuit i had so optimistically donned in the morning, and spending a while being coy with the waves that were flirting all the way up the length of my legs

--finding stories inside myself i haven't told anyone and a freedom to tell them now

ocean orange

i went to the ocean to seek out and bury myself in greys, walk through their tidal strength, and feel them cling in all their sandy vigor to my feet. what i didn't expect to find were the oranges of the shore delivered by the sea, stripped away from the bark of trees and laid bare under the misting sky. 


it was a good day. a very good day. and a necessary reminder to keep an eye on and embrace with warmth what's right before you.

a house of grief

i am pet sitting up in the sammamish highlands in a house i have returned to many times over the past four or five years. and as i drive out here each time, i think of how many of my stories this house has witnessed, most particularly, stories of separation, space and loneliness. how often severance {of varying kinds and importance} has struck while i have been here is almost eerie, but in the end, i have decided that it has been a blessing to be able to leave the grief behind, turn a key, turn my back and let it all rest in the bones of a house i do not inhabit every day. the only thing i have to take away is the adoring eyes of the pets i walk and feed. these are the same pet who often have crept up to my dangling hands, butting their noses into my fingers as i cried. unconditional love at its best. so i guess i am saying there is gratitude here for this space that has taken as much care of me as i have of it.

today i come a little raw, a little worried, questioning some significant parts of myself even as i pull from a steady stream of confidence and certainty i cannot entirely explain. i am grateful to it as much as it scares me as well.

so here i am, writing from a foreign bed, kittens walking across my keys*, curling up to my typing fingers and purring their miniature purrs.

and i am still happy.
still.
still and happy.


so i say goodnight {or good morning} and leave you with a song on repeat for me of late from cocoon. it's called cathedral. lyrics below.







I came from the valley
And you came from the sea
You smell like the sand

How far up the river
Would you go, would you go
To meet me again ?

And I built the cathedral
With the shelves that you held
In the hole of a tree

And I love the words you said
When I told you what the ravens
Sing in my dreams

You pushed on my heart
Every night and every day
To keep me alive

And you kiss my mouth
And I learn to walk
And I learn to try...

Can you hear the horses
It means the seasons changes
It means the seasons changes

When the rivers overflows
I run to the bridges
I run to the bridges

And for now don't be afraid
If the sun never rises
If the sun never rises

There's a time to let it grow
There's a time to let it slow
And a time to let it go..




*one just strolled across the unmute button blasting music suddenly scaring both it and me.