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Return from Wonderland…

So, for yet another year, the Festival is over and I am left with the memories of people, places and things that will linger in the whispers of my thoughts until time itself comes to and end…

How did this gimp-girl do?

Well, if Alice fell down the rabbit hole wearing a frock and a hair bow…she sure as shit came up wearing a corset and a sword. ;o)

Physically? It was as difficult as running a marathon with no training. There was no “comfort”, per se…and I truly appreciate now the time I do get to rest on the couch and flake out. Truly. And Porta-Potties? Trying to wrangle and pretzel my I’ve-earned-this-ass into a small box is no small feat…for TEN days!! Thankfully, there were cookies. And mead (this is a wine made form honey, not grapes). MUCH mead. I didn’t sleep at all the first night (I never do) …but after the acquisition of earplugs…omgIneededthosesobadly…I slept pretty decently!!

There was a native drumming occasion the Monday night we were there (last week). I danced like I haven’t danced in years…it was truly breathtaking…I wore a beautiful white wispy dress, the wind played with my hair…I twirled and spun and felt the earth’s heartbeat under my feet…the sun tickled my cheeks and I could have sworn my lips spoke the language of ancestors as the drums beat with the rhythm of life itself…

Oh yes, I danced, you know, as I sat in that chair hunched over while twisted and hunched over with pain. And it was beautiful. The mind is a very powerful medium.

I spent days reconnecting with friends not seen for a year past. I spent days with the man I’m going to marry. I spent days hoping my lips would let the voice out that needed to say the words my heart knew.

I’m not doing so well. Health-wise. I’m not doing so well at all. Yet on that very last day I finally crashed the barrier of hesitation and let go of the restraints of my illness and told my loving future-husband and caring friends of this alleged crimp in my plans to take over the world.

I cried.

They cried.

The release of the anxiety and burden was, however, the most bizarrely wonderful thing. It was…well…FREEING…

I don’t know exactly why, but I have a small hypothesis: I’m now free to live, knowing I’m expiring.


It then reminds me of the last night there at Fest: Shane and I resting up against a berm of sand, watching a lightning storm 180kms away, while simultaneously watching the stars overhead…as the drummers resonated around the firepit.

Peaceful, watching chaos chase stars through the brilliance of night.

So here I am. Standing at the opening of the rabbit hole.

I can either go UP, or I can go DOWN.

What would YOU chose? Would you give up, or would you try “one more day”. Ponder, then, that if you were to try “one more day”, and make it…could you make another? Just one. One day.

I can. I know I can. I most assuredly have not only the capability, but the power, to do so. (My mind is shouting, “By the power of Greyskull….!!!!”)

If I have the power to dance around to the beat of the Earth, I can sure as hell use my mind to help (read: assist) me in re-prioritizing, re-balancing and generally not giving a shit what or how it looks to anyone else regarding whether I’m “invisible”, lazy, emotional, pathetic or whatever other stigma normal-bodied individuals so choose to attach to my I’ve-earned-this-ass.

What this past week has shown me is who the key players are in my life. The support. The foundation. The Pinky to my Brain.

I’ve got a lot to think about. Logically. Goes without saying.

I’ve also got a lot to DO. I want to play. I want to write my book. I want to scrapbook my life for my children. I want to meditate to relax. I want to go to the movies. I want to trip some jerk with my cane (shhhhhhhh).

I’m standing at the opening of the rabbit hole with a corset and a sword.
I’m sure as shit comin’ up through it…


  1. Ethan Kincaid

    Thank you for this. Sometimes, when I get real scared about life, I read your blog. The simple black lines of text jump out of the screen, slap me in the face and tell me to stop being such a pussy. I know there are probably a lot of days when you don't feel like a hero, but you sure as shit are to me.

  2. bastdanica

    You really held yourself together so well through the entire week; emotional release at the end of that time seems (to me) to be a foregone conclusion-and I am glad you were able to share your burden with your friends. Through the tiredness, and the pain, you still managed to look lovely – these photos are a beautiful statement of the power you encompass and inspire.

    I feel terrible that I wasn't more *present* for you those times I sat with you. Unfortunately I got lost in my own maze of thoughts, and I couldn't be in a place of healing for anyone else (lock-down really sux at a fave event of this type).

    I'm especially sorry I didn't get to give you your birthday present from over a year ago-which I'd promised to do at fest.

    You are an inspiration, you are loved. I am happy you found such a healing experience.

    *dancing around the rabbit hole*

    Ditto what Ethan said.

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