I started a writing course with the awesome Angie Wiseman this morning. Wild Writing for Women. I forgot about it until my alarm reminded me 10 minutes before 9am. That’s, unfortunately, how I do things. I rushed to grab some coffee (luckily there was some iced in the fridge!) and rubbed the mascara off from under my eyes with coconut oil before we started (this is a video course, right? I wondered). I put on a bra too. Just in case. Grabbed my computer and joined and hit my edges quickly. “We’ll be writing for 12-15 minutes” she said. “Then we’ll each go around and read what we wrote.” I wanted to close my computer in that moment but knew that I wouldn’t. I knew I wanted to and needed to be here. Needed to stay. This is one of the writings that came out, unedited. Thank you.
Where I Come From
I’m from the fire of the women, the long lineage of strong women.
I’m from the tales told in hushed voices.
I’m from the songs, sung over scotch and sherry.
I’m from the secrets too giant to whisper.
I’m from the sad moments that stay inside the heart, alone.
I’m from the cool breezes beneath a full moon.
I’m from the howls of wolves and the cries of babies.
I’m from regret and sadness.
I’m from big joy that bursts like flames.
I’m from mountain lakes untouched by men and rivers with clear ice cold water.
I’m from activists and survivors.
I’m from soft, warm, nurturing hands.
I’m from the edges and the shadows.
I’m from the womb of nothingness and everything.
I’m from the headlights in the driveway that usher the news.
I’m from heavy weights and light words.
I’m from honey that drips ever so slowly and sweetly.
I’m from the light.
I’m from her voice that always said yes.
I’m from his wandering soul.
I’m from lies and truths shrouded in love.
I’m from desire.
I’m from soft earth.
I’m from the water.
I’m from the freedom of the sky.
I’m from the thighs of the mothers who came before me with longing and power.
I’m from their voices whisper “now.”
I’m from the darkness.
I”m from the fields.
I’m from stardust.
I’m from legends and myths.
I’m from goddesses.
I’m from them.
I’m from small memories.
I’m from old, warm quilts wrapped around them.
I’m from ecstasy.
I’m from pain they didn’t, couldn’t mention.
I’m from fear of losing.
I’m from fear of being; really being.
I’m from fingers folding crisp sheets that smell of grass.
I’m from hot chocolate sauce and dollar bills.
I’m from so many places and spaces.
I’m from the time before they considered each other.
I’m from the earth.
I’m from the fire.
This beautiful introspection has been pulled out by the magical Hannah Marcotti.
She said P.S. I love you, you’re great.
She said Let me lift some of it for you.
She said Seeing myself reflected in you was such a gift, because you’re cool as shit and it made me feel that cool too.
She said You are awesome and you are enough.
She said You are looking hot today.
She said I love your energy.
She said I can’t wait for you to go bananas on this world and just dazzles us with magic.
She said I wish you lived down the street.
She said Apparently vulnerability is our superpower.
She said I’m so proud of you. You’re rocking and rolling with your biz!
She said I’ll never want to leave you, mommy.
the scent of her lingers::
sandalwood and resin with a smokey finish
temples overflowing with ginger and incense
warm forests of pine and earth
sea salt of baltic seas spilling amber out of her warm hands
soft patchouli necks and wrists
old oak casks of dry red wine
cloves and cinnamon with hints of vanilla
coconut and lavender and rosemary intermingling
::the scent of her lingers
“there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and even during the
the greatest times
we will know it
we will know it
there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
we will wait
in that space.”
― Charles Bukowski
I want a day of quiet.
I want to drink wine in a small village in Tuscany with my love.
I want to expand.
I want to live for a year in a seaside town in New England.
I want to get my hands dirty with paint and glue on a daily basis. In a studio (or a room) of my own.
I want to learn to play guitar. Really learn.
I want to make enough art, art that’s evolved and smart and thoughtful, to have a show.
I want to make enough money to provide financial comfort to our family.
I want ease in breath.
I want a deeper connection with my husband. Emotionally, physically, intellectually, creatively.
I want more connection in my life. Even if it’s not always easy.
I want to be more organized without feeling too regimented.
I want to be recognized.
I want to be heard.
I want to be appreciated.
I want to read more. Important books, not just novels.
I want to use words like pragmatic and panaceaÂ in everyday conversations.
I want to wake up filled with energy.
I want to not fear childbirth.
I want to learn the stories of my family members.
I want to travel more.
I want to know that I matter.
I want to get the thoughts out of my head and into actions and accomplishments.
I want to be more of an achiever.
I want to be a more patient and more present mother.
I want to be better.
I want to be who I dream to be. The me in my head.
I want to swim in the moonlight.
I want to dance in Mexico.
I want to paint in a cottage.
I want to live fully, breathing it all in, connecting to all around me.
What do you want?