Hello.
It has been a day. A week.
From post-travel sickness to home repairs creating a bit of chaos, my well is feeling pretty low. I notice it in the way my shoulders stoop forward, hear it in the edgy tone of my voice- plumb out of patience. There’s the external messiness but some internal clutter, too.
Self-judgement for not being farther along on my grief/healing journey. Forms of rejection coming from multiple sources. Questions about the health of my relationship to my creativity, irritation that I can’t be more all in in different areas of my life.
There is more to share, another time.
I entertained the idea of skipping today’s letter and taking a proverbial sick/mental health day, if you will. The thought of giving myself permission to do that was a welcome one (and made me realize I definitely need to plan some time off this summer).
Yet.
I’m not only here for the pouring out but the receiving, too. Our metaphorical well is a communal space, a gathering where we can share each other’s burdens and triumphs. A home to practice nurturing ourselves in relationship, fostering resilience through connection, care, and vulnerability.
In short, this is not a one-woman show.
So today I’m here to offer what I have- a few lines of gratitude and a poem. I hope it finds some resonance. Thank you for being here.
(I’d love to connect and learn more about you at our upcoming new moon circle Saturday, June 17th at 11 am CDT hosted by myself and the lovely Sofia from . We’ll be chatting all things creativity, astrology, and whatever else is on our hearts.
Join us in conversation and share what’s on yours. This event is free and open to all, so invite a friend!).
Gratitude
A cool, cloudy day to clean with the windows open.
A husband willing to not only help with the cleaning but also take turns watching the baby.
Leftover Hawaiian pizza to snack on with a cold beer between nursing sessions.
This podcast episode with Katherine May and Morgan Harper Nichols (both on Substack!).
A new season of Queer Eye to laugh and cry along with (honestly, watching an episode feels like going to the best kind of church and fills my soul).
Examples of others showing up in their own authentic vulnerability, like this offering from
.Finally, I’ll leave you with a poem. Roughly drafted, imperfect, and also, just right.
The tiger lilies have bloomed. The house is a mess, dust and disarray speak of transition. We are in-between. Preparing to leave a home you helped build, not yet sure where we will land. I notice the lilies from the old kitchen window, one of the last to be replaced. Their striped petals blaze fiery orange against a sea of green, and I remember. A summer long ago, driving with you. The lilies grew wild along a great stretch of road, filling country ditches with fierce beauty. Golden-cheeked and eager, I asked if we could have some for our own. Of course, you said yes. Treating the matter of digging up lilies from the roadside ditch for your daughter as the highest priority, you planted them next to the strawberry patch, by our old front door. The tiger lilies have bloomed. Once a symbol of summer and youth, now a reminder of all that I’ve lost and all that I loved in a father like you.
All of me, to all of you, with love.
This week’s invitation:
Is there something in your life that feels messy now, internally or externally?
Do you have plans to take some time off this summer?
What’s one thing you’re grateful for today?
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Many things feel messy, inside and out. I’m grateful for a few moments of presence and stillness while reading this. Your voice has a very special way of connecting with my heart when I need it most 🤍
Mariah, thank you for this lovely writing and invitation and inclusion in your gratitudes, I’m really touched. Grateful to have connected with such kindred spirits like yourself here 💜💜💜💜