Because I am fond of words and believe in them as spells - as meaning holders/makers - when I write the name of this piece in my notes - return - I start to read and think about all the ways this word has meaning for me. A return journey, retracing steps taken
i've wanted to post songs here, so i'm going to start, because songs are recipes too, for healing and for tending with care, for bringing out attention to those seeds we seek to water. they are lyric sheets really, because i know best how to share
i've been writing this post for months now. opening, editing, closing, leaving, letting it settle, returning. worrying in between. stalling. unsure if this is the right portal for me to share through, regretting letting the annual fee pass into my credit card statement unnoticed. but i joined a
listening (and re-listening) to change from big thief: i sing it to myself often, in change and when reflecting on change. especially the first verse: change, like the wind / like the water, like skin / change, like the sky / like the leaves, like a butterfly. and i add to it:
is there a metaphor in bruising, in making a salve - with petals gathered, oils infused and wax rendered - applied tenderly to skin bruised, that might help me learn about rupture and repair, that might soothe towards healing an old heart wound? is there a connection i might weave that tracks
i sit and write by my window, and look up often to the twin berry in the garden i tend, yellow bell flowers often visited. a jar of marbles is close-by because my dad told me no one plays with marbles anymore, but my friend and i have small
invitation to join for beeswax mini candle dipping: Sunday May 25th 2-4pm by drop in to make a mini-candle, hand dipped by you, beeswax and wick provided. 🌞🌱🌻🐝 At the pandora park fieldhouse 2325 franklin Street.
a tsp of honey is transformed by the honey bee into 1/8tsp of wax, a bodily alchemy. it's an incredible conversion: nectar gathered sip by sip, transformed within, to wax excreted flake by flake, sculpted bee by bee to hold whole lives – whole complex lives. scraping comb
coming through winter into spring, and spring into summer, i return to what i know: infuse oils, melt wax, mix well, pour into vessels, share. today at the pandora park fieldhouse, where i am currently a space sharer and artist in residence, i open the windows in the rain, boil
this is * Time and Times * — an offering from haddon common that is just getting started: between worm and bud moons, and as I close my project of the last thirteen years. my intention here is to share recipes and reflections on honey bee and plant medicines I'm working