Another year

This year. This fucking year.

I laughed a lot this year, much of it from deep within my belly.

I leaned into discomfort and unlearned a lot about my boundaries.

I made new friends in weird places and put some distance between old friends in familiar haunts.

I ugly cried exactly 3 times but sobbed significantly more than that.

I asked for help a few times which was difficult but rewarding.

I ghosted my home and renegotiated my relationship with permanent locality, with my concept of what it means for me to be rooted in a place.

I had a few transient romances with some exceptionally vibrant souls but invested most of my heart into remembering what it is that I have to offer people.

I continued my romance with the wild and the dirt, my god the fucking dirt that I met this year was nothing short of mythic.

I saw things that shouldn’t be possible and lived stories that you wouldn’t believe despite them being true.

I fell more deeply in love with the desert than I ever imagined I would, finding pieces of myself scattered in its tender mornings and the scent of stillness.

I laughed at the process.

I hated the process.

I trusted the process.

I was mostly hard on myself but I’m learning to be softer, gentler around the edges of the man that I’ve become.

I didn’t dance nearly enough with the people that I love but I learned that, even though I’m a solitary creature, it’s safe to rely on them.

I made images with my bones and sang songs into the fray, simultaneously to no one and to everyone.

I took pride in watching Len continue to grow into himself and learned more about who I am by deciding who I definitely am not.

There was a lot of joy.

There was a lot of doubt.

There was a lot of everything.

Most importantly, this was a year of inquiry, of tumbling through the void chasing the “why” of it all.

I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for caring enough to dedicate even a moment to my work. Thank you for taking the time to read any amount of the bullshit that I jot down. Thank you for connecting with these moments of mine in whatever capacity you do. You’ll never know how much it means to me.

Stay safe.

Stay (somewhat) sane.

Stay wild.

See you next year.