the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
phoenix rising ~ August 15, 2006 - 11:36 p.m. I just came home from Phoenix Fire, and it feels like the whole world has begun again. I don't know how to write about any of it, about the last week I spent up on the mountain with my tribe or the months before that where I was swimming in and out of health crises and emotional shutdown. but here I am, down off the mountain and feeling again like all things are possible. i spent the day grounding, cleaning my room and doing laundry. things that felt so difficult not so long ago. now my space is clean and clear and smelling like white sage and incense. my desk is clean and organized for the first time in months. and here I am, sitting at my desk and using my computer to write with, instead of watching DVDs. (I blame my stretch of lassitude on jennifer garner. I got completely sucked into alias. also, I blame westside video for their "5 for 5" deal.) phoenix fire was deep work and sweet play, and learnings ranging in nature from gentle to devastating. saturday night I was stripped to my bones and torn to pieces, all the while held in the arms of my family. I danced and sang and wept and screamed, and learned more than I know how to give to words. and here I am, writing. at my desk, which I cleaned. there's no way to tell you what small miracles these feel like. but this I know: I need to write, and keep on writing. I need to keep sending my writing out into the world. this is one of the messages which kept coming to me, again and again. and so here I am, writing. at my desk. I added a sentence to my novel today. I started a new poem. miracles, all. and more in the growing. what gifts are held in open hands?
(((rings))) |