In less than thirty days, in less than a fortnight, I will enter my thirtieth year.
This is perplexing in the way it moves me, for I am slightly hardened by the years lived to get here, and yet am all too keen to embark upon all the lovely things in this wild year of my youth (because thirty is new-aged twenty, surely).
- In the works is a publication of mine, years in crafting. I completed a collection of short fictitious tales a few years back, but could not bring myself to allow others to devour them. Particularly in our culture where words move too fast and must be coupled with loud graphics and even louder images. How would my stories compete, I’d think. How would my stories survive, I’d say. How would my stories thrive without genuine souls loving them as I have creating them, I’d ask. They will most certainly die in today’s hands. And yet, as my thirtieth year looms, I become more and more cemented in my skin,* and look forward to letting this collection run rampant,** seeking out sleeves of hearts to cling to all by their lonesome–much as I have.***
*If new to my pages, you may not be privy to the few years I spent courting a lover, giving up myself turn after turn. And you may not be privy to the years I spent carrying my sweet babe, and then breastfeeding him. These recent years were grand in their own way, but they were not solely mine. I gladly gave up moments to tend to these boys–all wiry and big but small. In these roles, I took on pseudonyms that I still answer to, and yet I am rowing out of those crazy, selfless waters, back into an easy tide where balance resides.
**I am mother-woman, lady-child, and I love to go out at night alone, seeking solace in surrounding stars that are really moons just like me.
***Cliches are truth, and my truth is not always what’s seen firsthand.
- In the works is a fall retreat full of heart palps, full of restoration for others as well as for us three conduits of sorts (in various forms of yoga, meditation, journal-ing, to name a few). There is this goddess of a woman that I follow on Instagram, @mumumansion; she speaks of doing “women’s work” and the fulfillment it provides to all who participate. She is a beacon in our time. She is made for women by women. I am uncertain if she comprehends just how far her tethers reach out, encircling women with wounded hearts, nurturing us as if we were her own. We are all newborns at unique intervals in our lives–whether it be in making new friend-sisters, experimenting with new materials, embracing new paths. It’s just a beautiful, natural connection she offers, and it is my intention that this first fall retreat shall offer such positive notions as well.
- In the works is a quick jaunt to the sandy dunes found one state over. I had no knowledge of such land and lake coexisting so close to my home. When one of my most bosom companions informed me, we immediately made plans to travel with our broods to spend days lost, here. This trip with our babes and without men will occur in the warmest of months, and I will rejoice in the freedom of space and travel, and I will relish in the confines of a car with a true-blue gal pal and the truest loves of our lives–our children.
- In the works are a few trips to various states to play a
teensypart in helping lovers celebrate one another, to say vows, to experience something unimaginable to those who have not truly loved or who have refused to wed a lover in this way. Though this may seem too ordinary of an occurrence for some to list, there is no time like my current married state to appreciate vows taken in front of the multitudes who will hold those vows, that love, accountable. I shall always anticipate handwritten vows, ones where the heart finally catches up with a lover’s mouth. Two of the weddings I plan to attend have the most thoughtful and owl-wise lovers atop the cake–I just can’t wait.
Three cheers to less than thirty days from turning thirty.