Season of Trust

When dreams are reason enough.

Dear reader,

There is a fire-pit that lives on the red-brick patio behind our kitchen, surrounded by the limbs of ash trees that hang a little too close but we can’t bring ourselves to prune. I see it nearly every day. While I have lived at the ranch for two years now, I have never been the one who starts a fire. In the late fall, I spent hours splitting logs and stacking firewood with my landmates, but since then, I have reaped the benefits of proximity to a fire without breaking any nails. Living in community means the daily ways we warm or feed ourselves are often set in motion by someone else’s hands.

But this weekend, everybody was gone. Birthday parties, campouts, work shifts, and visiting family members meant that I was home, mostly alone, with only one question on my mind: How can I mend a broken heart?

Untitled, color pencil on found paper, 2024

My grief rises with the sun. Yesterday morning I walked the mile-long trail along the creek, careful not to disturb the Fairy Lanterns that sprout in the most precarious of places. After I built up a sweat, I tiptoed down the path towards the sand at NicO Beach. Tank meowed at me from the shore while I undressed, as I surrendered my body to the shape of the water, holding my nose and dunking with eyes closed.

The land's abundance billows my newly vacant heart; I emerge rearranged. I remember, albeit briefly, that there is a way to begin again every day, despite the endings in motion.

Old memories and new realities build up inside of me with each passing hour. By the afternoon, I am heavy. Patiently, I await the latest sunset. When the bats finally come out, I give myself permission to let these remembrances die.

I’ve been building or sitting beside a fire almost every night for the past week. I cannot pull myself away from its alchemy which, above all else, resists numbness. In the fire, I witness the little deaths of each day. The flames warm my body from the inside. My heart begins to thaw, so that I can meet this life.

Love, Anna

Alchemy for trust and heartache on the eve of the solstice:

The doors to my heart open inward.

My heart is wiser than I was led to believe.

I release beliefs that echo unlovability.

I release fear-based decision making.

I release the fear that now is forever.

I release myself from fighting for love.

Receiving love is my birthright, even if it makes me uncomfortable.

I love when love arrives.

In the harshest of times, in the worst of catastrophes of heart and mind, my compass is love and it knows how to guide me.

I build a fire.

I will not fear the emptiness.

I lead the way with what I believe is possible.

I alchemize my grief instead of numbing.

The best parts of me come out around people leading from the heart.

I engage in relationships that resist my subordination and reify my humanity.

The right people will not be afraid of my worst parts; they are equipped to meet them with compassion.

I acknowledge the difference between my love and my attachments. I separate them in order to better love myself and others.

I invite the serenity of my aloneness.

I trust that my dreams are reason enough.

May the solstice inspire you to make your own magic, or use the shareable image below with credit: