One) beginnings are my favorite. Starting over moments are my thing. I will go as far as crafting a ritual to honor this newness because it feels sacred and important. The problem is I am a lover of the dream time and of visioning. I can cling to the illusions in rapturous amazement. All the planning and idea mapping is a language I am fluent in and can remain loyal to this practice of new beginnings.
Two) Consistency is what I like and I'd like to explore this a bit. I want to see what I'm made of and discover what stories stay hidden inside of me that can be set free.
Three) In my communications class this week, a portion of essay #2 was due. I spent three-four days torturing myself trying to choose a topic. Just when I think I had it, I couldn't write about it! I went from, "the value of community," to "feminism," to "slime!" You read that right. Slime. Young entrepreneurs in the Slime making business. Wheeet?
Four) My dreams this past couple of weeks have been so very insightful and eerily accurate. Snakes one night, jewelry shopping another night, cheetahs and my vacay with an Instagram influencer. In the middle of the night, when I can't record a dream in my journal, I reach for my phone and quickly note my dream on this free, easy-to-use app, called: Dreams Diary
Five) Finding a system that works for you is so important as a creative person, yet so challenging when everything out there is geared towards telling you how to do the damn thing correctly. I did a google search: "can people excel at life even without a consistent routine?" This, after I already noted in #2 that consistency is key. I found only one article so far, but I'm not so sure it's answering my question. I'll be exploring this one...to be continued.
Six) 9:42 Friday night. My eyes are heavy as I type this. Sleep is next.
Seven) The leaves are beginning to drift off, one-by-one from the cherry plum tree in my backyard. The colors are luscious. Deepest red, plum, cherry dark, oxblood, burgundy, the darkest of purples and burnt umber.
Eight) I wear clothes until they are literally holey af. When it was my reality for most of my life...to "go without," it's hard to transition out of that. Now I have the privilege to go out and get what I "need" and, my idea around this is, that I really don't need much anyway. I experience guilt. I'm sure my mother and her mother, and her mother's mother felt guilty too. A sort of ancestral discord if you will. Especially, when their families were full of many hungry mouths! Poverty is dense and heartbreaking. Easier said then done as well. It's a consciousness, or a mindset. I am learning and I have so much more to say about this, but right now it's just an (after)thought.
Nine) Voting. This shit better work.
Welcome to my Virtual Journal. Here you will find #fieldnotes of a Medial Woman. I write unabashedly imperfect, mostly short, even one-line word play. I share story. I share- first, my process. I view my life-living as a grand experiment and I am taking notes, mapping a trail with moments, stories and synchronicities.
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