My Mother & MDMA

The muse strikes when she sees fit. It doesn’t matter what I am doing, it doesn’t matter where I am. She calls, the words flood my mind, and my heart begins to race, “time to write”. The knowledge that I could force this, if I were to be Pressfield’s “turning Pro”, seems so ludicrous to me; I’ve…

Twenty Twenty

In the silence I feel a pull recently to converse with the creator of time, pleading to alter course for the fate of my children’s future lies in tenuous balance now. Currently, things are just – bizarre.   Some of us, perhaps more than “they” speculate, wait here in this holding pattern, breathes held, tongues swollen…

Anxiety with Purpose

I set out this morning for an early drive through the hill country. Coffee, music, time with the sunrise, God, and organizing plans for the day; this time helps me keep a sense of autonomy, if even for an hour, before I become so many other things to so many other people for the rest…

Resistance & Grief

Resistance is a bitch. I’ve felt the desire to write for days, but each time I’ve sat at these keys, I am driven to torment – nothing meaningful comes out; I am not accustomed to this because these blank pages are where I pour out my heart. Without this outlet, I am sure to go…

Peace during COVID19

Life, as we knew it, has changed. I’ve written and deleted, written and deleted, about fifteen sentences before that one and gone on five different tangents about this or that, but nothing fits how I am feeling other than to say: Everything has changed. It feels too simplified and almost alarmist at its core to…

This Burning Heart

I’ve always carried a heavy heart in my chest – all my life I was told I am “too sensitive” and emotional; my dad always said to me, “You’re bringing me down, Chrissy”, I remember this from such a young age. I learned that how I felt, and how others perceived it, was a reflection…