It's just so romantic here- this time in the best way. In my nephew with his cute lil brown self. An artist he is, I've just learned, which explains his starry eyes and sweet, gentle disposition. He feels things deeply and so understands how curious and precious life is.
Romance: it's in the music on the radio all day and night long that makes me want to dance with myself in the middle of a simple living room floor; it's in the people outside, the neighborhood, where browner people live with all their history, music, dance, culture, struggle, and belonging to one another; it's in my heart, which has increased in relaxation and ambition for the people. We are the majority of people- we who live like this, with ants and flies, who sell clothes on the street in the markets, who sing out loud to every song and with our hearts, cherish our artists for an entire lifetime. We are the blood and the strength of a world. Without us, civilization cannot exist.
We get used to mosquitos. I find my way by not scratching at the bites. A little discipline now protects from the painful (and unsightly) scar of regret.
I'm extremely trepidations about moving wholly into farming. Opportunities are now present for me to apply to be farm helper and I have to be the new girl again. For my entire life thus far, I've been new to somewhere every other year and sometimes more frequently. Stability is a moving target. I enjoy routine, but I do get that two-year itch to expand, to change. For the last 4 years, I've been focused on changing this habit. I had a real job and left it (after 2 years), I had signed a year-long lease with the intent to renew and then my landlord decided to drop the building off to a developer, I brought my lover into my family household and then got dumped in the wreckage of change-making.
Oya has been presently felt for months now encouraging my adjustment to the Wild. Tornadoes and stormy transitions from night to day persist. I am often let alone to explore the feelings that erupt to the surface after the quake. The only footing I have is in knowing that I needed this to wake up to myself, finally, to have nowhere else to turn but within. My heart, my breath, and my voice are all at stake here. I cannot return to the past in the way that I learn from it. I have to be my own mother, father, and lover and as in any relationship, I have to work to keep them alive. This is how I work. Thank you for watching me. I feel supported by the structures of this house, even if the walls and roof are blown away and the wind has claimed all my little trinkets. Gotdamnit I'm here!