Diary 22

TALISMAN
A year ago I bought an antique ring & cuff that I believe have enchanted my days since. As I picked them out, the man behind the counter explained to me that elk have two ivories in their upper jaw, the same material as warthog and elephant tusks, but much smaller. About the size of wisdom teeth. He pinched the ring between his thumb and index finger and showed me the elk’s tooth, set in the center of gold embellishments like a precious pearl.
I rarely go a day without wearing these pieces now. They connect me to deeper sense of being, the feeling of standing in a forest, bare feet on soft earth, all around the sound rain makes as it slips through the trees. Nowadays there are so many distractions to fend off in order to make time purposeful, so I cherish these talismans that remind me of presence. Some kind of magic I possess when I wear them, a heightened awareness of Nature in all of her realness, intricacy, and beauty.

TRADITION OF MY MAKING
Every Monday, I drive my Ford Ranger inland to the Santa Margarita River trail. It’s a ritual that developed by accident. There must be some yearning deep in my bones to start off the week hiking my head silent & wading through creeks. Or maybe it’s the slow exhale into Winter, my natural response to the seasons changing. Quieting my soul, turning inward, spending more time with myself & the trees.

FRUITION
After a two year gap, I’ve finally gone back to school. Once the virus struck I didn’t have a clue when I would be returning, yet here I am, doing the damn thing online.
I used to struggle with comparison, especially when I had social media, seeing others my age leading the standard four-year college life, but I soon learned that comparison is an empty well.
While most of my peers are graduating, just now learning how to pay their own way, I’ve been financially independent for some time already, & I’m pretty proud of that. To each their own timing.

BITTERSWEET
Going to be honest here for the sake of empathy.
I’ve been grieving the end of a four-year relationship, stumbling through a brutal, black-hole kind of depressive episode. Somehow, though, I found my way to a podcast that offered me a perspective that’s helped me begin to heal. It compared the way that we emotionally process a breakup to the way that we process a death, but noted that we don’t have the same rituals for them. When someone dies, we celebrate & grieve their life with a funeral, but when a relationship dies?- we don’t have a ceremony. We sit on the shower floor with scalding water running over our heads and hope & pray that our pain will run down the drain with it.
So I lit incense & sage, then sat down with my sadness, my anger, my regret, and my ever-present love for my ex, and had a “funeral.” Like a chalice knocked over, the pages stained red, this—the act of confronting the end of the relationship, and confronting all of my emotions about it—was a proper gutting. Blood all over the floor & walls. I wrote a letter that he’ll never read; every unspoken, finally spoken. Then I went through old photos, letters, & gifts and took the time with each to really feel & remember before tucking them into a box in my closet. It was fucking messy, and sentimental, but hell, I got out of bed the next morning. I felt a little lighter.

ANIMAL INSIGHT
In order to keep magic & mystery alive, I’ve been telling myself that animals can see through a veil that humans can’t.
I recall nights as a little girl when I was overwhelmed by family conflict, at a time when I didn’t feel safe communicating with anyone, and my dogs would come lick the salt & tears from my cheeks. I could barely get a word out if I wasn’t writing in my journal, but in front of those dogs, I didn’t have to. They just seemed to notice my pain.
Recently, I hiked Lake Calavera on a whim, an hour before sunset, needing to feel some sort of resistance in my body after hours of lying fetal on my bedroom floor. Clawing, climbing, panting, remembering, I sought out a spot attached to an old memory, got frustrated when the sun was going down quicker than I could find it, and sat down in a cutout between some rocks. I nearly lost my shit just before a coyote, nimble as could be, trotted right in front of me. We locked eyes for a second— all of her grace, presence & power held in sight for just a moment, then she quietly continued on. I’m not quite sure what they’re seeing, but I think that animals are walking the fringes between worlds. There’s just something mystical about their ability to intuit good & bad, and to show up in divine timing.

MEDITATION
With each inhale of cold air, the morning comes to life before me. I watch the sunlight begin to drip through the trees, my gloves wrapped around a cup of black coffee, and I pull the verdant landscape into my lungs. The air smells like wet stones & amber, and with every breath, I relax further into my seat.
She doesn’t come everyday, but when she does, it’s ethereal. A black-tailed deer I’ve come to know by the rhomboid shape of her ears.
I notice her on this particular morning down by the creek. She doesn’t see me, but I’m watching her drink, admiring how graceful she looks with her neck draped over the water, and there’s something about the way she’s positioned that soothes me. Bowed, her head nearly level with the dirt, she still retains all of her power.