Some hearts

The parts are like best are the ones where I'm not thinking at all. We were staying in a hotel room and I couldn't sleep so I went into the bathroom to write. The light above the toilet was also a heater and you put it on a timer, fifteen minutes maximum so I set the time for fifteen and would try to become so lost in the writing, without looking at the time, without thinking about the possibility of the light turning off. Like going to sleep while waking. It took awhile. I was incredibly conscientious of the timer and the possibility of myself being left in the dark. Then it happened. I was writing, and suddenly, it was black.

Sarah McMurray asked us to talk about abudance. And gatherings. This was our homework.

Walking down that neighboly patch on Ogden I came across a box of moisturizers. Night creams, day creams, eye creams, charcoal scrubs, facial tinters etc. etc. I took several bottles and have been using them often. I considered several options: someone recognized the lies of these products and stopped believing they could reduce aging. Someone

If you start talking about "us" and "them" your going to lose me, sorry. I won't listen to you. Whenever you say, it is all "their" fault for "our" problems I won't be able to hear you anymore.
When you say, it's all men. When you blame it on women. When you say it's the 99% or rich people or poor people or smart people or dumb people you lose me. I can't listen to that shit anymore.
We're winking at each other from across the aisles and dissolving our world. We're biding our time to make these casual loyalties real ones. We're talking a lot of shit and losing something.
We can talk about differences but for godsakes, leave "them" alone.

Don't get me wrong. There's some real shit out there, but there's some real shit in here. I've done some shit so my brothers and sisters and they've pulled some real fast ones on me. A goddam I couldn't say that I've never hated a bitch

Got drunk the other night and wrote in my journal
"I adore humans to their fullest extent. To the fullest of their absurdities. To all of them. I adore them."
Just like Kevin, I get downright sentimental when I'm drinking.

Funny thing about me, I don't accept compliments. I just don't believe them. For the same reason I don't give compliments only in true occasions. Compliments feel cheap. I try to honor something I appreciate by spending some time with it without words.

Tony was telling me about the Soviet New Year. He says it's on the thirteenth of January, which I believe, but some sources are pointing to the 14th. This year we'll wear grey working class uniforms, turn off all the heat and electricity and pound vodka.

In my dreams, I'm in Olympia. Neighborhood cafes and so many genuinely likable people.

God is the dream giver.

The medicine path is all our lives, it all the ways we hurt and heal. It is what we put in our bodies, it is what our bodies are made of. It's where our spirits are. It in the balance. The earth, wind, fire and water inside and out.

Jake, Laura, Nico, Ory and I are in the medicine field. Yarrow, mullein,
By the river I ask Jake,
"What is this?"
-Hemlock, he tells me
-It kills you. Sometimes the Natives were called to it.
-What happens when you eat it?
-You die.
-What happens when you die?
-You're heart stops.

I didn't ask, I knew. Why were the Native called to it?
Because it was part of their medicine path.
I wish I could hear them. Hailee brought in her aloe plant to take care of while she's away. (I need to take care of her) I was hoping they would speak to me.

My realization of my medicine path started with mullein. It started with Natty when she walked me through the mullein and sat with them for the first time, her interpreting their song. Then I met yarrow - little white petals, feather bristled leaves.
Seth and Hailee took me to a field of ancient sage.
-The deer live of sage in the winter, Hailee told me. (I wish I could find a medicine to help her with her deep and wild heart break)

In the little garden this summer the sunflowers bent towards the path. The catnip was covered in cat fur from Miso rolling in it. Tomatoes were stunted by the deer eating the blossoms (more on that later). Basil and terrible unsuccessful

Laura was building a fire and I was on the mattress reading to Nico and I asked her,
-What do you need?
-Firewood, she said
-and an hour to massage this woman from Honduras.
What I needed I came there for and was taken care of. Cut off the bandaid they had wrapped around my pinky at the Urgent Care and re-bandage the stitcher wound that made me dizzy to look at.