Menu Close

Dirty feet and a clean soul

I think the best kinds of escapes should come with their own epiphany.

Like, don’t use muscle rub on your lower lumbar in the throes of summer heat because you sweat and will ultimately numb your hoo-ha. *shifty eyes*

Or, sometimes…in your valiant efforts to try to “fit in”…you realize that your best escapes come when you walk to the beat of the rhythm of the goals and desires you, alone, wish to manifest.

I’ve got social anxiety somethin’ stupid. It makes my conversations awkward, at times…weird, at others. So, immersing myself into the biggest spiritual festival is always fraught with anxiety and a little hesitation.

This year, I again brought out the big CoFO…my “Cone of Feck Off”…and it worked. Again. No drama in our campsite, no negativity and sure as shit no end to the number of amazing memories I was able to make with my family.

Memories are a choice, too. Which ones did *I* remember?

–          Belting out “Let It Go” in the car with the gingers…and nailing it. Sjögren’s stole my voice many, many moons ago…so the opportunity to reach into one’s core and feel the freedom of “Happy.” was amazing…

–          Watching ravens fly silhouetted against a monstrously high white cloud.

–          My husband holding me in the river.

–          Giving offerings of the heart in memory of my friend, Rhian (Shanty) who passed away from this dastardly disease called Lupus. I miss her so much. I carry so many emotions to all the things I wish I’d been able to share with her. It scares me that her path was cut so short, so quickly, as I meander through the same process…

–          Watching people’s faces: I like to watch the “Happy.” of people…I look at how they smile, how they open their arms to embrace friends. Eyes that crinkle at the corners are the best…it means their soul is smiling, too

–          Dancing with my twin #1. Dancing at all.

–          Impromptu conversations. A *lot* of impromptu conversations. People willing to share a few moments of their own time to partake in a little of mine.

–          Pho in the Forest

–          Tupac-a-corn henna, bitches. It’s what all the cool kids are doing.

–          Tears. Trying desperately to squelch the ‘ugly’ cry that partially took over during a really profound ritual…being surrounded by people (so many wonderful, differing, happy people) as they danced a dance I could not.

–          My gingers and I rescued a frog.

–          Firepit & conversation, often silly, mostly giggly. And, tiger hats.

–          Mercury Mail…I wish I’d been able to get out many, many more “Colour!” cards, but my hands hurt so bad to write…next year, my pretties!! 😉

–          BANNERS!!! Seeing my children’s awe at finding my crafted banners all around the land was profound.

–          Thanking people. A little over-seen *eyeroll* didn’t go unnoticed. I appreciate that it may seem silly, unnecessary or rather annoying to thank you for seemingly small things, but I believe in the importance of thanking people for situations, circumstances and/or events that they may not feel or recognize as impacting upon other people’s memories. They do. I know this, because when I thank you, you’ve contributed something to my memory bank. I reach into my memory bank when I don’t feel compelled to continue with cellular activity.

–          Mead. Mead. Mead. Mead. Mead.


Oh, yes…it happened.


Soul restore = HEART HEAL.

My perspective changed much that I’d needed to see…truly see. Like, in the very core of my essence.

Year three of a five year “timeline”…*tick tock*

Don’t worry.

I got this.

I choose to live, no matter the “time.”


I haz it.

You go, little Thing go.
You go, little Thing 2…you go.
Under our family banner, we lived...
Under our family banner, we lived…
All my registration "bling". I even put this photo up with my scar. Because, I can. Progress...
All my registration “bling”. I even put this photo up with my scar. Because, I can. Progress…
Tupac-a-corn henna with my Llamas. EPIC. MEMORY.
Tupac-a-corn henna with my Llamas. EPIC. MEMORY.
Storm on! We lost a lot of books we'd had under the kitchen tent table :( Buggernackles.
Storm on! We lost a lot of books we’d had under the kitchen tent table 🙁 Buggernackles.
Because Canadians play lakes. ;)
Because Canadians play kubb…in lakes. 😉
In all the glory of Festing...getting a little *bling* on
In all the glory of Festing…getting a little *bling* on



1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.