a proper introduction
I’m a mystic-in-training, flexing my spiritual muscle and working hard not to get trapped into thinking that I’m not what I know I am. I’m a wounded maiden still fighting the urge to be swept up by a fair prince or princess who will be my Ever After. I’m a soulful creatrix with a penchant for play who can get caught in trance and float in the ether of my own making until the bubble pops and I land on my ass in the dust of somebody else’s story. I’m a fan of the underdog, a sucker for the blues, an early riser who checks her phone for the text that may or may not come and needs to get a grip and move on to toast the sun.
I’m for you living your best life. I’m for seeing the mess that’s been made of things and how it’s time to pitch in to clean up the joint, this imperfect unUnited States that needs to get its shit together and make some agreement that can last for the next seven generations. I’m for clean water and health care for all and while we’re at it, let’s include oral health, too, literal and metaphorical. I’m for the end of genocide. I’m for schools and art in them and libraries and music on the streets and neighbors knowing each other despite the places they can’t see eye to eye. Just this morning when my America First neighbor came walking toward the rural row of mailboxes, I found the courage to say, as my innards beat like hooves inside me, “I need to tell you something. I’m a Democrat, and I’m going to support Kamala Harris with my whole heart” to which she, in her American flag t-shirt, said with the screech of a startled cat, “Really?” to which I said “Yes,” to which she said “Well, you’ve been lied to,” to which I said, “Oh, don’t even start because I know my truth down to my soul and I don’t want to be preached to,” to which she said, “okay” to which I said, “see you later.” And I walked on with the dogs, carrying my power stick, and stepped strong up the road where I was headed.
I need you. I need connections. Communities. Partnerships. I need to be first string on some A-teams that see me as real and know how special I am and don’t put me in a virtual roulette wheel of benched players who may or may not serve the day. I need a reciprocation of straightforwardness and honesty and conversation that goes beyond platitudes, as elevated as they might be. I need to get down and dirty with the soil of things, the worms and muck and ooze of the ages. I need to save my precious maiden, nurture and encourage her, raise her up in her electric wild mare energy to run free of the tamers and whisperers and to pound the earth and call the clouds and bring forth thunder and rear up at the lightning and neigh like the wild one she is and remind her that I, too, am here, crone that I am and mother, too, and that we contain the spirit of all mares, feminine power unbridled, receptacles of potential and our ability to create it.
And for those who recognize the occasion, Happy Lunasa!
