I feel a bit like a kid returning to school and tasked to write her “what I did this summer” report, but this summer was a big one for me as it marked my return to performing live after over two-and-a-half years.
I’m becoming a woman of tonics and potions, and only / my cast-off Catholicism makes me feel guilty of it…
One of my good friends recently said how there’s nothing more powerful than a woman who has been to hell and back. And I thought about that phrase, “to hell and back,” and how much its pertained to my own journey over the past few years…
In the evening after lying in bed sick all day,
I take to walking around my new neighborhood in Georgia.
It isn’t much of one, this bedroom community
in Savannah’s south side.
The Echium candicans, once vibrant and ultraviolet in spring, are now burned black by the hot sun at the start of summer…. they make me think about letting go of what is dead and dying… the natural falling away of things.
Well, I know I have arrived
And it's hard just to survive
But I'll stay alive
...And it is all right.
Forgiveness is not a magic wand that you wave and make the hard feelings go away. It’s a process, and some days it comes and goes.
For far too long in my life, my SELF has felt suppressed, minimized, belittled, ignored, unacknowledged, unloved, unseen.