Here I am, late night on a Wednesday, the last Wednesday that I’ll have off in a while and I’m thinking about so many things. Here I sit, a silk robe donning my shoulders, legs crossed, tea steaming, the cold wind blowing outside in an air bnb in Newport, Rhode Island that I paid for with my own money. There’s soft music playing and lights on in this apartment that feels like home even though I’ve only been alone in it for a total of mere hours. I drove up a few days ago, didn’t let many people know that I was coming and Spirit has slowly guided me to those that I needed to see. I’ve felt the reality in time passing and change happening. What do I need? I don’t really know, but I do know that I am strong enough and curious enough to find myself answers.


This week, I’ve rarely been alone. I mean, really and truly and utterly alone in my own energy. What is it about being alone that is both exhilarating and frightening? Maybe it’s because there’s nothing to hide in or from. Maybe it’s because the warmth of self-discovery can lead to more and more unanswered questions and/or revelations of the lightbulb variety. I’m not quite sure. I do know that at 26 years old, I seem to know less than what I knew at 22 when I first moved to Providence, RI. I haven’t written in my journal in the last few days because I left it in my apartment in Brooklyn, and believe it or not, I miss the constant chronicling of life in my journal. My journal has always given some meaning to this loneliness and feeling of oldness that I always seem to have even as an incredibly young person.


What’s the plan? Most days, I’m not so sure that I have one. Do you? Does anyone really have a set plan for their existence here? Do we all just flounder? Do we fly? Do we fall? How?

Being descended from Medicine People constantly has me questioning where I can learn, and what Spirit wants to tell me. Where’s my connection to the land? How do I strengthen that? Things don’t always happen over-night and sometimes I have to remember to give myself time. How do I hold space for myself? How do I hold space in my own truth and experience? It’s not for anyone else, just for me.

I’m working on a new piece and it’s coming along slowly. It isn’t at all unraveling like a loose crochet loom. It’s taking a while and lots of hard work, but maybe that’s the point. Life can be slow, sultry, sexy.


My main question that I’ve been asking myself recently is “How do I allow myself to be loved?”. For so long, I’ve had such a hard time allowing myself to be fully and wonderfully loved? I’ve gotten close to only back away. I’ve influenced my space while in it before gently fading into the wind. I can say the many reasons for that, sexual violence at a young age, being among the top reasons for my lack of conclusive relationship building, but I choose to acknowledge truth and take accountability and steps toward wholeness. What is it that I see in my community, my tribe? I see honesty and wholeness, understanding, time and real and true love. We get messy, and we grow from that muck. I’m alone for the moment, but I will never find myself alone in life with my tribe at my back, my sides, my front. My ancestors hold me up and I repay them with tobacco offerings and sweet words, sage and smudge smoke. I am alone and that is my prize and I am found with family and that is my life.

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