Invisible

I have mastered

the art

of invisibility.

I don’t know how

to handle being

seen.

I think it might

be time

to learn.

How to be seen.

I want

people to see

me.

I want

YOU

to see me.

But—

Who am I?

And—

Who

do I want

to be?

broken

I used to believe that breaking made me stronger. But these days I feel that all this breaking has simply left me broken.

Broken heart and cracking mind. And a spiral that spins me back to places I’ve been a thousand times. But different. A slightly new perspective every time I spin around. But the results are usually the same.

I want too much so I give too much.

And then I give more than I have inside and I bleed myself dry. With my heart pinned upon my sleeve, I am always confused by the mess on the floor. There has to be another way.

And it all leads back to breaking. Or it starts with breaking.

I am broken and don’t know how to fix what’s wrong. But I’m not entirely sure that anything is wrong. Just broken. And maybe broken is right. Maybe broken is where I need to be right now. Without answers. Without knowing what comes next.

Sometimes death comes first and it’s the pain of loss that sets us free to live.

mise en place

From the French, a culinary phrase defined as “everything in place," referencing preparation and layout in kitchens.

It is time to put myself in order. It is almost a new year. It is almost another new beginning.

One more box left to unpack. Clean the clutter off the work table. Stock the cupboards with food. Make soup to freeze. Wash the blankets that have stayed hidden over the summer. Bring out the knit hats and mittens.

I made a schedule yesterday of before work tasks and after work tasks in an attempt to remember my pilates and yoga. I have pared my wardrobe down to five basic outfits with interchangeable parts.

I still have too many shoes, but that’s one vice I refuse to give up. One of two vices. Bourbon hot toddies do help in the winter months.

Cold weather gear will be ordered this weekend, along with boxed postcard sets, stamps, and an immersion blender. I have set up my glass jar savings accounts. I’m as ready for winter as I’ll ever be.

It is time to strip my altar and start over. Time to pause and begin again. Time to seek stability in trees.

Next week I go to say hello again to the Octopus Tree. Maybe this time I will climb the do not climb fence and ask her face to face for the help I need. Help forming the questions that should have been asked long ago. Help hearing the answers that are most likely already rattling around in my head.

I’m dressing up as a witch for Halloween. But I can’t decide on my hat. Do I sew one? Or knit one? Or buy a cheap one that might last the day? Do I copy the image of what a witch looks like to others? Or do I dress the way I know my own Trickster Witch looks?

This afternoon I figured out what I’ve been doing wrong every time I’ve tried to knit in the round. A small error, really. But one that kept things from joining up. One that kept the piece from being a connected whole. But I found the order of it. And now I’m three rows into my very first hat. Quite possibly my Witch’s hat. We will see.

And everything will have a place.

Unraveling

I thought I was patient.

I thought I was strong.

I thought I had my shit together.

I was wrong.

I am unraveling.

But—

My friend Clare (who taught me how to knit over beers at Busters in Lexington, Kentucky) told me that mistakes in knitting made her happy because she could unravel what she had done and start over—and starting over just meant she got to knit more.

I am unraveling.

Unraveling means that I get to start over. Unraveling means I get to unlearn some of the things I thought I knew. And if I can unlearn these things, just think of all the living I’ll be able to do.

So—

Things I Need To Unlearn So That I Can Relearn Them And Really Start Living:

1. what it means to be in love

2. what it means to be happy

3. what it means to be successful

4. what it means to value and be valued

5. what it means to be an artist

6. what it means to be a writer

7. what it means to be a friend, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, and sole provider for two rascally dogs and their cat

8. what it means to be me

9. what it means to be content

10. what it means to be a survivor

11. what it means to forgive (myself and others)

12. what it means to let go

13. what it means to hold on

14. what it means to just be

I am unraveling.

And unraveling is good.

To Love Without Need

How can I expect anyone to give me anything if I don’t really believe I deserve it?

I can’t.

Sparrow teaches about self worth.

Sparrow teaches that your voice doesn’t have to be loud to be heard.

Sparrow reminds me of Saint Therese of Lisieux. The Little Flower.

“What matters in life is not great deeds, but great love,” she said. To do the ordinary with extraordinary love.

How can I love like that when I keep looking to get something in return?

I can’t.

Pelican came to me the other day.

Pelican teaches about sharing.

Pelican reminds me to rise above my troubles.

“The only love you keep is the love you give away.” I don’t remember where I read that, but it’s been with me for many years now. Some days I think I’ve got a handle on it. Some days I’m too selfish to see it clearly.

How do I love others without looking for them to love me back, but still love myself and acknowledge that I am worthy of being loved by someone else?

Tricky.

Perhaps this is where Coyote comes in.