Can a New Day Come from Dying?

On making hard choices and surrendering to what is.

As always, thank you to those of you who read and/or financially support my work. It means so, so much.

New Day

To believe in nothing at all. Oh, 
the freedom! To live like a minute, 
an outburst, a sigh. To spiral invisible 
like wind though chimes. To disappear 
from this chaos, alone and alive. To 
subsist like a sneeze, the shade under 
the tree. To never need perfect or paycheck 
or praise. To slip like a step into this new day.

Thank you to my friend, Sethyne, for sending me this poem which I used as the inspiration for my own poem.

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This poem, New Day, reminds me of my little girl self. She believed she was invisible. She lived like the storied fly on the wall, watching and listening. Now, as a full grown woman, I am choosing a period of anonymity again as I care for my parents and enter my own personal Underworld. It is my Death Year after all, and over the last few weeks I’ve learned that the only way to stay awake to my life is to die to it.

To My Inner Circle

What does this mean for those of you who have spent time in my workshops, circles, and retreats? It means that, for now, my offerings are on hold. This makes me sad to report yet I know that I cannot give what I don’t have. As one of my wise friends suggested the other day, “Perhaps it’s time for you to receive for a while.” This brought tears to my eyes. Yes. For now.

To My Dear Readers

My writings here will be wild and unruly for as long as is necessary (which could be forever). I may share more poetry. I may publish fiction. I might talk about yoga or the Enneagram, tarot or astrology. I’ll definitely write about caregiving and love. I might post photos of my cats. I may even share a song. And my writings will not be published according to a schedule because my nervous system lashes out anytime I try to wrangle it into creative conformity these days. And who wants creative conformity anyway?

Here’s what I know: During this time when the majority of my energy will be used to support my parents, my own writing/creativity/art will be given more room to grow. I will share it with you when time allows.

I do hope that it will be enough.

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To my dear Paid Supporters

Speaking of feeling like enough, I’ve struggled to feel worthy of your support, and yet I know that artists throughout time have relied on the support of patrons. Thank you for being one of them.

Gathering Boxes

Finally, for those of you who reached out with interest in The Wise, I will reach back shortly. I’ve been collecting boxes for mailing and the courage to release my wise women out into the world. Thank you for your patience.

Pulling at the Thread

For those of you who need to write to survive being human, I offer you this. Set a timer for 15 minutes. Read either my poem above or the one that inspired it. Read the poem out loud, twice. Start the timer. Write. Whether you write a poem, fiction, a rant, a letter, or a wild journal entry, I do hope you share it with someone to keep the creative thread flowing. I would love to be that someone. Even though my life is in flux right now, I always welcome your words, your wisdom, and our wild connection.

With love and gratitude,

Holly