shit has been so real.
on the personal, my family recently had to face unexpected news about the status of our housing situation. this tugged at my roots, forcing me to face uninvited change and growth. it's scary and new and there isn't enough cardamom in the world to calm the anxiety I hold in my belly. it's the reality that the hudson valley is facing a major housing crisis, that the world is facing a major housing crisis. it's the reality that so many of us are feeling and holding the same anxiety in our bellies right now; we stand unsure.
i entered the weekend an untethered, hot mess on full goth mode, and i decided that there wasn't shit i could do about it. so i went on a walk with my family. we picked a field. the winds were high, the mountains aflame with red, yellow, and gold. the bones of mugwort, wild carrot, and ironweed lined the path and the milkweed pods bursted with silvery threaded seeds. we picked as many as we could, and whispered our wishes into the seeds, as we cast them to the wind. we ran and laughed and cried and sang and hugged. somewhere in it all, we stumbled upon a praying mantis ootheca. we gathered around that precious, sacred place. we awed at the sheer magic of this small and delicate egg sac swaying upon a stem. we humbled knowing that it would face high wind, rain, snow, darkness. and that come spring, it would birth life, 200 tiny mantises. in witnessing this fragile miracle, we were able to find our reflection.
i wish my community wasn't broke, sick, heartbroken, tired, and in rage. i wish the government wasn't in a constant state of operation black hole, hell bent on sucking up our rights, liberties, and gender identities. it's a full time job just trying to hold on to joy, pleasure, one another. yet, when i do, i show what i'm made of. i show the resilience i carry in my bones, that i inherited from my ancestors and guardian angels. i can't explain it, but when i saw that ootheca, i believed we could be ok, that we are all fragile miracles.
holding you all so close.