happy death day, sweet one

Death Day:
A year has passed since you have passed. Our loveliest love. Our sweetest boy. The calmest and most gentle soul who brought so much fire and change with him.

Thank you for making your home in me. Thank you for teaching us that Love and Spirit is unending. Thank you for giving us this opportunity.

Thank you for giving us this opportunity. Thank you... really?

After everything, how is it possible that your death has ENRICHED our lives?

In leaving, you taught us the most magical act of all: ALCHEMIZATION. Literally turning our shit into gold.

This year has been a time for transformation, transitions, and formlessness. A time of unbearable loss and inevitable growth. A time of not knowing what's next. Unsure footings and a bunch of little deaths along the path. Things that we had to let go of; people we couldn't rely on because the depth of THIS sadness was too much for them to bear; behaviors within ourselves and our relationship that just didn't fit us anymore. All put to rest, all set aside, all to make room for more. And saying goodbye is really really hard work. It's painful. It's necessary for growth.

I keep going back to the garden as therapy. The garden as me. This is the first year of my life where I am so completely happy with her. The first year where I'm not afraid to prune and pick, to dig and transfer--- to cultivate her wildness. The first year I know that nothing will ever really tame her.

I have taken the time to tend to her plants and her space. To shower her in rainbows. To nourish her with compost and kind words. To love her for all she is, all she will grow to be, all she lets go of. To honor the ways she serves and what she gives: beauty, sustainace, sanctuary, a home for many winged and spirited creatures of this dimension and others.

None of this is possible without death. Gardening is a practice in life, death, and rebirth cycles. No matter how much we try to pretty the process, our hands always get dirty. Life is temporary. Every plant will shine, shift, shed, and die before it's reborn. We are grave diggers and seed spreaders.

I've become comfortable with turning all this shit into gold. Master gardener right here 🌱

grave diggers and seed spreaders

Death Day:
A year has passed since you have passed. Our loveliest love. Our sweetest boy. The calmest and most gentle soul who brought so much fire and change with him.

Thank you for making your home in me. Thank you for teaching us that Love and Spirit is unending. Thank you for giving us this opportunity.

Thank you for giving us this opportunity. Thank you... really?

After everything, how is it possible that your death has ENRICHED our lives?

In leaving, you taught us the most magical act of all: ALCHEMIZATION. Literally turning our shit into gold.

This year has been a time for transformation, transitions, and formlessness. A time of unbearable loss and inevitable growth. A time of not knowing what's next. Unsure footings and a bunch of little deaths along the path. Things that we had to let go of; people we couldn't rely on because the depth of THIS sadness was too much for them to bear; behaviors within ourselves and our relationship that just didn't fit us anymore. All put to rest, all set aside, all to make room for more. And saying goodbye is really really hard work. It's painful. It's necessary for growth.

I keep going back to the garden as therapy. The garden as me. This is the first year of my life where I am so completely happy with her. The first year where I'm not afraid to prune and pick, to dig and transfer--- to cultivate her wildness. The first year I know that nothing will ever really tame her.

I have taken the time to tend to her plants and her space. To shower her in rainbows. To nourish her with compost and kind words. To love her for all she is, all she will grow to be, all she lets go of. To honor the ways she serves and what she gives: beauty, sustainace, sanctuary, a home for many winged and spirited creatures of this dimension and others.

None of this is possible without death. Gardening is a practice in life, death, and rebirth cycles. No matter how much we try to pretty the process, our hands always get dirty. Life is temporary. Every plant will shine, shift, shed, and die before it's reborn. We are grave diggers and seed spreaders.

I've become comfortable with turning all this shit into gold. Master gardener right here 🌱

mug bouquet

Mug bouquet (aka little cuties): lupine, milkweed, elder, zinnias, cosmos, lavender, garlic tops, sweet white clover 😍😍 I've been making it a regular practice to maintain a few bouquets during the week. I pick, forage, arrange, remove, pick more, rearrange, edit, and enjoy.

Watching these plants transition from life to death-- the dance between the fullness of their bloom and the disappointment of their wilt-- has been teaching me a lot about patience, calm, and the importance of letting go.

Everything goes hand in hand. No joy without pain. No life without death. No beauty without the grotesque. I'm coming to terms with duality (slowly) 🌿🌻

father's day

This man... the absolute definition of a Dad. Being called to give your child back to Spirit is the most selfless act a parent is faced with and this man did it with grace (how is that even possible?!). What fucking strength it took for you to support us on this insane, completely unexpected, and vastly complicated journey.

You hold me up when I can't stand. You encourage me to loosen when I refuse to let go. You teach me to breathe when I'm angry to even be alive in this reality.

With one in heaven and one in my belly, your babies (and Gertie) love you for everything you are and everything you give to them--- your all, all the time. Whether they're physically here or just on the other side, you are always present.

Thank you for keeping Callum alive. Thank you for giving me Bea. Thank you for being my past, my now, and my future.

I bow down to you. I see you. I love you.

heaven sent

Heaven sent: spent the morning honoring my father by recreating my most cherished childhood memories--- picking fruit and bottling (fresh gorgeous delicious!) spring water.

My dad left this world almost 9 years ago, but our relationship has grown stronger despite his physical absence.

Through Spirit, we are still able to connect. I feel him come through often; hearing, seeing, or smelling little things that act as reminders of his presence. I feel him change and shift and uplevel; teaching me that learning still happens even after we are called Home. I call him in for help when I'm in darkness; his guidance and wisdom and full perspective comes through every time, he's able to assist in ways that are seemingly like miracles.

I know the pain inherited to me from his line was pain meant for my growth. I honor his burden and his trauma by transforming it for our future family. His Spirit has saved me in ways that he never really could while living because his/our limitations, shadows, and boundaries are all gone. The love we have for one another is truly undying and limitless, it is what remains, it is our legacy.

I am grateful for the man that he was in this life and the Spirit he is becoming; a soul always in evolution. His death taught me that there is life after all of this. It taught me that we are immortal beings--- moving from lesson to lesson, body to body, life to life. We will all reunite again, like we have many times before this particular incarnation. We are here for each other.

I can't wait to see you in my dreams and in the Spirit realm. Thank you for being my Dad❤ (and for those with fathers who have moved on: keep those memories close, every single one you can remember; know that you just have to open up your heart and ask for them to come through to feel their love again)