i babied myself and massaged my muscles the way my mother used to.
on autumn's arrival, pulling myself back together with care, goodness, and travels. this is very much a stream of consciousness collection of thoughts.
hello my friend[s],
happy sunday. happy october. the feeling of autumn is to my bones and i feel the harvest time. trees are turning shades of red and yellow and brown, the beautiful leaves falling to the ground like moths fluttering. the smell of the earth decomposing and slowly returning into itself comforts me in its consistency.
it’s 12:01 pm and i’m sitting on my couch. r is next to me doing some work. we both have finished cups of tea standing next to each other. the windows are open [and will continue to be until the earth decides it’s time to close them]]. the wind is blowing strongly outside and the rustling sounds of trees moving can be heard almost constantly. as well as the distant sound of children playing at the nearby park. the air is a bit chilly but i have a sweater, a blanket, and big socks. this is a very good neutral sunday.
if i’m being honest, i’ve spoken twice in the last 19 hours. i went silent and tired around 4 pm yesterday. i wrapped myself in my bed to feel the texture of my duvet on my skin. i read for hours as my room was slowly plunged into darkness. i [didn’t[couldn’t]] move except to switch sides. i kept close to myself in silence. i listened for a bit to r playing her soft jazz on the piano, sometimes drifting into sleep. never talking. i stayed in my room for 17 hours ( hibernating.
i woke up at about 8 in the morning. at 9, i pulled my sore tired body into the bathroom to wash my skin of the dimness i felt. i scrubbed my body clean going so slow and so gentle, watching the suds fall.
i patted my body dry, slow and gentle. i took care putting moisturizer on my limbs to stay soft. i babied myself and massaged my muscles the way my mother used to. i took special care with my hands and feet, always taking me places, always forming the words for my mouth. my hands; they had lines on them this morning from dehydration. i took a sip of water.
make sure to go gentle with yourself. take the time to press into your skin. you are your own greatest kindness. your self loves you so much. be kind to your lover.
i pulled on clothes that would keep me safe. i like being able to retreat into cloth. do you?
finally, i entered the kitchen. i made egg drop soup in my little yellow pot. i spoke once.
i boiled water, mixing pastes to get broth. i added a large sprig of thyme and two savoury leafs. when the broth boiled, i added noodles broken into spoon sizes. i beat an eggs with lots of black pepper, and salt, and parmasean cheese. when the noodles were cooked, i added a bit of left over rice, i added the egg [stirring]. i ate right from the pot
afterwards, after i took my fill, i gathered my blanket, i made my tea, i fetched my book, i sat on the couch. i spoke once.
i’ve read my fill. now it’s time to write.
i realize once again i want to live lift in warm muted tones. to cover me in wool and muslin and linen and silk and cashmere and whatever they made hospital baby blankets out of [cotton?].
i see mood boards and snapshots into other people’s living spaces and i fall in love. i see the same sky as a person i don’t even know where they live and i fall in love. i read words by authors that i’m not confident i know and i fall in love. i read about other people’s love and i don’t imagine it’s me, i imagine it as them, and god i fall in love.
i fall in love with other ideas and visuals and feelings and textures and it makes me feel like i’m a million people at once.
right now, i wish i was sam gribley. living in the trunk of a two-hundred-year-old oak tree, frightful as a companion, the weasel and the birds and whoever else i’ve forgotten as friends.
but i do love being me. i love the people i /know/. i love the places i go. i love the words i write.
i have reverse sonder, i think. or maybe i just never had to realize. i’m so hyper-aware of the complexity of other people’s lives and i absolutely love it. i like how every person is connected. i like how we’re connected. i like how all of you who read this are connected together.
a great big spider web filled with morning dew droplets.
i’ve read a lot of soft words this week. after my midterms, i needed something slow and good and healing. i’m nearly done with my mary oliver collection. i almost don’t want to finish it. i ordered a new mary oliver collection. i don’t need to be afraid of finishing something. there can always be new beginnings.
a new beginning from something finishing., season two of bts in the soop started last week. i already feel calmer.
it’s a little show where those seven just relax and spend time together in the forest. they cook and play and sleep and read and eat and laugh and talk. they go so slowly and i’m reminded once again to go slow. they give comforting words that i can’t help but take to heart. it makes my day so much warmer. seeing them be gentle with one another is a soft reminder to be kind, wake someone up with cuddles, make sure no one feels left out, play with the dog.
this is a piece i’ve been thinking about a lot. an unfinished work by someone i admire on being good
i like how they talk about how intention can affect the meaning. if i’m doing something for a specific reaction, is it no longer genuine? or is it me trying to build habits? but does this in turn make the habit unnatural if i have to train myself in it? i don’t know.
i don’t think i will know. but that won’t stop me from wondering and talking. opinions can shift and change as much as a river can, impacted by other people and experiences like beavers building a new den.
do you think you can be inherently good? please tell me what you think.
even with myself, i had to make the conscious choice to take care of myself so tenderly this morning. but i don’t believe we are inherently bad. i don’t think of people as evil creatures because i don’t think of nature as evil. things can make people do “bad” things or become “bad” people. but morality is personal.
i think people can just be forgetful. i will keep thinking and asking.
it’s already been an hour of me talking with my fingertips. it’s 1:03 pm and the wind is still blowing. i’m going to go on a walk, reconnect myself to the outdoors after so long in myself. i’ll take a flask of tea and i’ll finish my book. maybe i’ll see the neighbourhood cats, maybe i’ll talk to some crows {{{they’re such good listeners.
maybe i’ll listen to music but maybe i’ll listen to the earth. if i do listen to music, it’ll be this playlist. i forgot it existed until f reminded me of it the other day. we listened to it a lot together, august 2017 i think she had said. a time capsule that has remained beautiful.
before i go, i want to show you this painting that i just love. silly deer standing together in beauty. maybe i’ll bring my paints with me on my outside adventure.
i love the word travel [the name of the painting]. the word travel was a part of the title of my mom’s blog that she wrote. about three years of her words are tucked into that word for me. a travel large family, that’s what we were. it’s a shame i’m not at my family home right now. one of my mom’s best friends made us a big book of my mom’s blog posts which is kept on the tall shelf between the dining room and the kitchen. all of the posts from when we were travelling are in there. i think it was a funeral present, i can’t remember. i absolutely love reading that book, words trapped in time, spoken when i want to hear them. maybe i’ll take a trip down her words. read them online.
today’s plans have been made.
go slow today, especially if your week was busy. i hope the next few days will be kind to you. let them take care of you, let yourself take care of you. show kindness, even if it’s conscious. especially if it’s conscious. i love you.
xx delphi