I forget about my freckles sometimes.
Yesterday I saw myself.
Really saw myself.
36 years of life. Of joy. Of heartache. Of witnessing.
Pale skin with tracings of veins like maps under my skin.
But beyond the physical,
Tender, compassionate heart.
Courage running like roots down my spine for the risks I have taken,
I was really, really afraid.
I saw myself.
Because I went out into the forest, bare feet cold on the damp, sandy Earth and
I allowed myself
to hold space.
I have been hiding behind the camera for years.
It is safe back there.
My camera has always been a tool for healing, for documenting what is true and real and resonates on a Soul level for me,
but it takes a lot of courage to allow someone to really see you.
But in the last two weeks, The Crone has been speaking again. Soft. Showing up in dreams.
Showing up in snow,
in coyote bones washed down in the flood.
She asked me what I was afraid of.
And I thought about it.
“The softest parts of me. Offering my vulnerability up.
Telling the Truth of why I am here.
Because I open myself to -
The Crone, my Crone, looks at me.
Says, “There is more. But you already know.”
And She stares at me, waiting.
I lift my eyes to the tree branches, clear my throat.
Because the other side,
the ones that runs rivers through my heart knows -
really knows -
That showing up and being seen is really the only way.
The only way.
Living in hesitancy
Is not a regret I want at the end.