On weaving

Words are powerful, they say.

Of course, they are. Out of nothing, there begins some thing... An idea, a thought, a sentence, a memory. A spiralic journey of life.

On quiet days, I find it easy to see words crawling on my skin, floating on water, and being evasive in my dreaming. Always persistent with the wind. I have accepted that part of my gifts is never about wrangle words. Just as my entire family dreams deeply, we all weave words.

Weaving, unraveling, weaving them into worlds. I love that I am blessed with this old magic.

Sometimes, I have to write about hard things. Ugly things. Bitter things. Memories from broken animals. Sometimes, a lack of love paints worlds worse that of being unloved. Sometimes, the hard thing means your love wasn't enough.

I weave these worlds. I hold them, and even when I am scared of all the brokenness, I am brave, not because I have to. It is always an honor and adventure for me to witness and listen.

All my sessions open doors to these worlds. If you have been afraid to ask your animal friends the hard things, come to me.

I am brave. I will ask. I will weave their stories. 🌻