Last night was pretty rough, harsh-edged, too drunk and too vulnerable and it had me putting my spikes and armour back on for the first time since New Years. I woke up with my teeth clenched and a head full of self-recrimination- and my parents at the door, here to help me move a few loads of plants from this house to the next.
So I moved my garden in the pouring rain, spinning out over the relocation of things that I think of as being so integral to the space I currently inhabit. Wondering how they'll settle into their new homes, hoping I've made the right choice for me and all the green life I'm responsible for. Squinting and worrying about angles of sunlight and looming trees and root competition. I arranged and rearranged and plotted and pondered until I was soaking wet and smeared in mud and calm. Able to forgive myself for what went on last night. With my hands in the dirt and mud on my knees able to be so aware of myself as part of something living and breathing and beautiful, so much more, so much beyond the shiny sharp edges of the world Out, in the Pubs and Clubs (the Nightlife).
Still muddy and wet I sat in a park with a good new friend watching her dogs sprint and chase and tumble. A few hours of conversation and I'm filled with the satisfaction of knowing such amazing creative people, of being found and welcomed (beyond all odds, it sometimes seems) into a community of people who inspire me. This is a strange world full of so many possibilities.