she blooms

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Bit by bit, it somehow happens. 

The first several weeks post move, I was on complete lockdown just trying to stay present and afloat. Now with the vernal equinox in view and a full month of living and piecing things together in this house behind me, I can finally sense the fallow seeds hinting that it's almost time to crack open. This initial part of my separation and alone time has giving me the space to really feel my own rhythm, but more importantly to also watch how I move through my own process... of life, of grief, of creative work, of fear, of single motherhood, of longing... I have witnessed it all in what feels like ultra-slow motion. One... tiny... moment... to... the... next. I'm still integrating what it all means.

What I know for sure is that I go way way down deep. 

It's where I find my own safety and discover some of the most essential parts of my own aliveness - the creative fire, the sensual flow, the inner alchemy, the connective and interstitial threads of simply being wildly human. And I how love the coming of spring (both actual and metaphorical), for how it finally cracks me open with light and juice and spark and all the sacral oh, yessss of it all. 

We're almost there. Can you feel it too?

Are you ready to bloom with me?






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