alatefeline: Painting of a cat asleep on a book. (Default)
Yesterday we went to Sauvie Island and picked berries at a U-Pick farm. My partner and I admired the distant peak of Mt Hood, the boats on the river, and the green and rolling fields on the way over, argued about driving, compromised, and got to the farm with plenty of water bottles and sunscreen. The strawberries were basically done; the blackberries and blueberries were just starting to come ripe; the raspberries were in their glory. The sky was blue and enormous and the sun was very bright and warm. A breeze off the river cooled the whole island. The cottonwood trees left drifts of fluff on the grass. Birds sat on stumps in the river and trilled in the grasses and copses. We picked, lazily enough, for several hours, and filled two pints of tart thumb-sized early blackberries, two of greeny-purple-tinged small blueberries each, and three of perfect raspberries. A few sun warmed deeply ripened little strawberries in the drying rows burst in our mouths. I had nothing but raspberries for lunch, and felt well content… I left an offering of a strand of beads to the great oak tree that watches over the farm, and I believe it was accepted.
alatefeline: Painting of a cat asleep on a book. (Default)
Emergency mental grounding for self and partner in the middle of the night because shadows on the mind ate a very important word: the "it" in "I want to get it away from you."

Worked.

I even feel better myself, under the *giddy*.

However: I am not flight checked on this size of vehicle!
alatefeline: Painting of a cat asleep on a book. (Default)
More good things. (Because they are good, and because I’m still upset and need the discipline of identifying positives.) Read more... )

Many good things, yes, and one is having time to be here!
alatefeline: Painting of a cat asleep on a book. (Default)
I’ve had a difficult day so far. (grief, death of a loved one, altered states of consciousness, minor injury) Read more... )
alatefeline: Painting of a cat asleep on a book. (Default)
I went looking for some insight, for a way to shift and rearrange the broken pieces of my understanding of how to live a decent life in a messed-up world. I brought back a poem to write. I imagine that I will heavily edit this later to better serve as literature, message, and/or exemplar of my work.

Right now it is raw. I don't think it even succeeds in conveying the central insight I had unless you follow the same path in your brain as I do when you think about what it means to be part of something truly bad and still try to do good. It is what I needed it to be now today.

I welcome discussion if you want, on the piece as either vehicle of personal insight or as poem. I think it will eventually fission in that regard. On where it came from, what it means, how it could work better, whatever. And if you need to scream at me for my failures after reading it I am okay with that, though I certainly don't promise to encourage it.

Please don't read this if you are in or close to a bad head-space right now.

Content Warning for: unedited dark insights, gory imagery, transfiguration, collective guilt, the impact of racism and the implicatures of white privilege, queer and complicated hope

No title yet although it may end up being something like "Blood Phoenix"

Read more... )

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