We’re flying American instead of our usual United because I refuse to make a connection in Denver. Not now, maybe not ever.
We are Santa Fe bound! Neither Ken nor I have ever been there, so we’re excited.
I also already can’t wait to get home.
I’m very much looking forward to a three-day gathering: Indigo and Ancestral Memory. There will be a day of dyeing followed by two days of ritual and conversation. The lead up to this weekend has been filled with inspiring and heart-warming phone calls and emails. I already feel held by the group. I know I will come away changed.
As for hiking and Georgia O’Keeffe? Meh.
A wise friend of mine commented yesterday, “Look, you’re gonna feel bad here. You’re gonna feel bad there. You might as well feel bad somewhere else.”
You’ll never guess what I AM looking forward to: a yummy plate of authentic enchiladas!
(It occurs to me that having a tag here for “grief” might be ridiculous.)
“Look, you’re gonna feel bad here. You’re gonna feel bad there. You might as well feel bad somewhere else.”
I could not have said it better myself. It is stuck like glue. Enjoy Santa Fe. I have not been. I was supposed to be in a show there once upon a time but then Covid happened and everything was cancelled.
I’ve described grief this way: it’s a room you occupy, not a path you follow.
In this case, it should be revised to: “it’s in every room you occupy.”
Too bad about the cancellation.