No one tells you how quiet it gets. Not peaceful. Not resolved. Just quiet in a way that removes your excuses.
No one tells you how quiet it gets. Not peaceful. Not resolved. Just quiet in a way that removes your excuses.
For a long time, the hardest thing for me was not discipline or motivation.
It was care.
For a long time, the hardest thing for me was not discipline or motivation.
It was care.
Sage hasn’t started play school. And I’m already feeling the leaving.
This piece speaks to a deep personal process I entered while working with the medicine in Brazil. There are no graphic details here, but the themes may touch tender places. Read gently.
The wound never begins where we think it does. Many imagine trauma as something loud. A breaking. A moment clearly marked in memory. But for many of us, it began in the quiet.
This pilgrimage to Brazil my second time with the Pataxó was not just a journey across oceans. It was a return to something old inside me, something Irish, something forested and wordless.
There’s something about standing at this threshold that feels different from the birthdays before it. It’s not just another year older. It feels like a crossing a doorway.