Dear Luminous Ones~
I hope this note finds you all well and immersed in making your own magic. I apologize for the delay in my virtual communication. I’ve missed you. My muse has been swimming through my insides, asking me to speak and read and write and spend some more focused time both exploring writerly communities out in the world, while still traversing through my own creative wilderness. With a project focus on compiling a body of work to be breathed out into the world for thoughtful consumption. An interwoven collection of sacred and secular, threaded together by life in all of her equal parts of surrender and strength.
So that’s where I’ve been. Along with exploring some other areas of the virtual landscape like Instagram, with some more sporadic oxygenation into the lungs of Twitter. As my Muse and I continue to evolve, I am in a space of fertile contemplation over what my regular methods of virtual correspondence will be, and what platform seems to best serve my creative medicine.
For now, I am mostly musing over on Instagram, and if you are interested in finding me there, here is the link: Follow me on Instagram.
I’ve also started sending out a monthly newsletter, with updates on classes I’m teaching, as well as news on my writerly endeavors. If you’re interested in joining that Tribe, you can do so here.
In the meantime, I’ve sent along below an excerpt from a poem that is currently alchemizing and getting to know the rhythm of its own pulse, and I hope it to land with you as part of that ongoing exploration of sacred&secular, gravity and grace, that seems to be an intrinsic part of this being human.
I hope to see you soon either in the virtual jungle, or the earthen one.
To Forever Flowing Ink, the Mercurial Creative Way & the Magic of your own Muses,
“I rode my bike back through an old neighborhood a couple weeks ago, near the restaurant with its name written in red cursive script, standing quietly above the Sunday pavement where your tires used to drive.
My bike hugging the red brick sidewalk as I neared the end of the street, turned left and then a quick right with the overpass of the highway and the underpass to the t station visible up ahead. While the air suddenly became palpable with you, the way you were green sheet metal and concrete mixed with traffic. A lingering on the edge of the outskirts of town, intriguingly unfamiliar and slightly dangerous, like I might discover in you the parts of myself, longing to be set free.
How a Monday at 1pm could carry the same throb of a Wednesday night at 10, sitting in your silver truck with rain christening the windshield.
I see us with sand around our edges, and salt on our hemlines.
Because you were like Savasana in a field of daisies,
with diamonds on my shinbones,
my rib cage a strand of white winding pearls.”
—excerpt from forthcoming poem
Photo via Instagram