There’s a note on my altar that reads,
“Little by little the bird builds its nest. Just start writing.”
I don’t even have a desk right now. Just my altar.
Mid move into my new home and my heart longs to return to my writing practice. But it’s been a while since the ritual has felt grounded. And my fingers are not in flow. Mind as scattered as all of my unpacked belongings. So I pause and reflect on why I write. An inquiry to strum up some power. And then I remember where my power is. My power is in what I love…
I write because I love.
I write for love.
I write to reclaim my love for humanity and the lands and stars that birth us.
I write to become human again. To locate myself inside of soil and senses, earth and sky. For my animal body to come alive. To look out beyond the limits of capitalism, the antithesis of which is connection.
I write to be with what is precious. The spring babies. And the joy they light in the old folks’ eyes. The grass that’s growing again. Just like the return of our love for this planet.
I write to come home.
And my nest is feeling more like home. As I momentarily forget about the boxes and the to do list and tend to what I love.
Just a short little love not for y’all on this Sunday morning. I hope you’re having a nourishing spring. I hope you’re feeling resourced by love and generous with your love. I love you.
🌻 Josie
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I am endlessly grateful to each of you for your presence here.