My press on nails from my angel costume are starting to fall off one by one. I should soak my hands but I don’t, I let them break and crumble and awkwardly snap off. The leaves all fell off the trees while I was gone and now that I am back my cocoon is open, I see through the branches and the first snow fall is here. Subtle but announcing itself clearly and with little regard to the stack of wood left uncovered.
In my dreams and in my waking life are the ghosts of love. When the veil is thin I find that the memories of love lost, love cherished, love unrequited, finds its way into every crevice left unprotected. I find myself longing for feelings that used to be and in the in between of what will be next.
The gift of nothingness is the quiet. No waiting. No lust. No distraction. Without so much as a thread of longing for another I watch as the flames move in the wood stove, June curled up next to me, a strange gratitude for what is not here. As sure as the snow falls I know this will not last, perhaps not even until dinnertime. I will crave a lover.
The need to separate independence and wanting to be held vanishes. I used to think I could only want one and now I know I can want it all. I like the parts of me that are a solo entity - my house, my dog, my body, my business, my wood pile, my groceries, my clothes, my plants, my cross to bear. I do not long for domestic bliss or for falling in love. I do not miss the chaos of a new swirl even if it is one of my most preferred drugs. I want to lay on the couch and do nothing with love. It is the ghost of nothingness together that haunts.
I do not feel tortured by not having this and I also don’t feel free without it. I feel clear and I feel clueless. I see the list I made and all the things it forgets. I see what is forgotten and wonder why I left it out.
I downloaded the apps for five minutes each and then I deleted them one by one. I have done this on a number of occasions. Download, swipe swipe swipe, delete. I am left feeling more alone and less inspired. The despair of the world unhealed by the void of the search.
Convinced no new love will ever emerge I turn towards god to say thank you. Thank you for another day of my sobriety, my health, and my life. I know I don’t remember to drink water but thank you for keeping me alive despite this aversion to my survival.
The ghosts of love whisper under the door frames, slip up through the chimney, and fill the cold air outside the big drafty windows. There is no despair from the spirit world, only an invitation for more stillness. I oblige, and still I remain.
Flexible Office : Digital Co-Working - Tuesdays and Thursdays November 2 - December 28 Live on zoom
Join me and the best stranger family on Earth starting THIS Thursday. We begin with a big visioning session and this alone is worth the whole value of one season of Flexible Office. It is recorded if you can’t make it live. We’ll spend some time setting our goals and visions for the end of the year and do a little bit of co working. Let me know if you have any questions. You can also listen to this little bonus episode of Common Shapes to learn more.
The recording of Black Feminist Writers and Palestine was a beautiful event and you can watch it here
Black Women Radicals also created this amazing reading list
I enjoyed this episode of Off The Grid with and
This poem from Jacqueline Suskin
I love reading newsletter
Other newsletters I am enjoying right now : : , : , and :
This song
This album
Today’s episode of Democracy Now! and listening to protestors at the Jewish Voice for Peace demonstration over the weekend
As despair enters I make a continued promise to be dedicated to my art, to liberation, and to solidarity. As genocide continues may we keep saying, Free Palestine.
A portion of October’s paid subscriptions will go to the Palestinian Feminist Collective