With words and images, this is my small contribution to keeping the night fires burning all year long. I think that words with all their arrangements have lives of their own, kinetics of their own.Sometimes, when words are mixed with magic and and like-mindedness, I imagine that they are drawn to each other by their own free will, and then a holy teaching is carried on the wind.
Here are some of the things I am: a poet, a writer; a psychiatric/mental health nurse and advocate; a cartographer of my own life; a grandmother, partner, and friend. I’m building this blog to hang out more with words; to explore how I relate to the world on any given day; and most certainly to honor Old. Journaling, like most other writing, can be a lonely, isolated occupation. Moving toward other possibilities, my intention here is to explore participating in a different sort of community. I anticipate tags for poetry, grandparenting and graceful aging. Mystery. Maybe stories from the front lines of nursing. Maybe life in Vermont in the early 21st century. Making magic. Making baskets. Making meaning. Making it through the day, even.
One word at a time. Holding the darkness. Holding the fire.