Journal Entry: January 29, 2018 11:02pm, Los Angeles, CA
It has taken me a long time to figure out how to love this woman; this mountain of water, this river of fire. A long time to be able to approach her at an angle that lets her feels safe and seen at the same time. She is freedom that has never quite learned how to use her extraordinary wings, laughter that has always cringed just a bit at her own sound. She got told at some point, during some critical period that she was too much to handle and so containment has been her uncomfortable way of staying; a safe, ill-fitting seat at the table. She is love; albeit of herself. But when allowed, the love she pours into her own soul overflows with such force that towns and tribes and nations thirst and hunger no more. She is why we give thanks. Why we bow and pay homage to things like trees and dewdrops, moist soil and tears.