musings of a psychedelic punk rock renaissance yogini and late-blooming athlete
This is a reminder to myself – I posted this last week regarding bereavement: Yesterday was strange and uncomfortable, but in the end, I made sure to paint and top it off with song and community. Music is the balm for all of life’s troubles.
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Amanda Fucking Palmer blows my mind and my heart. She is relentless in her raw vulnerability, an inspiration, an ardent champion for humanity in all its passion and messiness and ugliness and real-ness.
There is no intermission. Only life.
Photo of Amanda Palmer in Ireland by Stephanie Zakas
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Feeling pretty darn lucky! Get outside and enjoy your life.
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From the grief of this year rose gratitude. A deep gratitude for my life, for human connection (however brief), for the bond with light and plants and trees and air, with animals, for the hard work and devotion it takes to get out there into the woods, to push myself up rocks and dirt, to […]
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The end doesn’t make the experience any less valuable.
Read MoreI do not, cannot stop myself. Grief. My body trembles for weeks. My hands shake and I cannot eat without effort. Who am I? I have to keep walking, that was all I know.
Read MoreI also want to get a good camera and get into the woods and take photos. I need to buy some equipment (both photography and camping gear and probably, eventually, gulp, a vehicle).
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