Burning down the house
We smudged the house last week before we left on our respective trips, hoping to rid ourselves of the gris gris of past baby failures and missteps in other areas. Then we had to resmudge today – the loss of Ele hangs in the balance, the past wrestles with our todays, the future is really quite bright given it’s precarious foundation. So we smudge to set our demons free and rejoice in what is good.
A friend called this morning to say a neighbor is not doing well, the same one who approached me the other day – we think she has sort of lost her mind and is looking to hurt or be hurt. Amid chaos, even across oceans, while we take comfort in each other, this poor soul wanders the bayou looking for more pain.
“I hurt myself today,” sings Johnny Cash.
I haven’t slept over six hours a night in five days – it takes it toll on my psyche, is how I reconciled the tears while walking Loca this morning.
I tipped the scales this morning – 12 pounds heavier than I have been in over a decade – I’m trying to find a center to perform life while emotionally wrestling with an ailing mother, a dying blind dog, the closing and reopening of space for a child, my lover out of the country while planes are crashing and kids are dying and a shadowy figure looms like an African elephant in my room – and I’m twelve pounds heavier with the weight of all thought.
Deep breath.
Dwell in possibilities.