one year of grieving alana

Saturday, a year ago, after a massive grief ritual at the third emergent strategy immersion, I got the news that Alana had transitioned.

The anniversary date is today, now, both yesterday and today. Everything is memorable in such an unfair situation; the details matter forever. The details are what we have when loved ones die young, unfolding what we were given, each memory, each communication. We want to open and examine every inch of time together, to know everything.

Alana is hilarious, competitive, loyal, humble, fierce, indulgent, loving, beloved, unapologetic and excellent at words. She is all of these things (and many I didn’t get to learn about), still and forever.

Its a new moon, time for a ritual. I’ve been living my life more ferociously since she died, more in touch with what change can do. Alana left such clear instructions: don’t take it too seriously. don’t waste it. the fear is a good sign. drink in pleasure. practice pleasure as if your life depends on it.

She gave me more than I ever got to give her.

This moon I’m writing down what I most want, and planting seeds of futures to live into through the barriers of my fear and into pleasure.

And also, I’m asking for mercy, an expanding mercy for all who grieve Alana. With lit candles. I hope that for today the universe has enough and doesn’t need to take anyone else into her mouth.

I imagine a place for you where you’re in motion, and smiling, and right by Mac. Its the deepest darkness. The thinnest veil. The next adventure. The way you are gone and still felt, here but unable to touch the loneliness, a teacher still.

We won’t forget. And today, we have spent a year in tender memory.

i am a writer writing in the woods

i haven’t brushed my hair since i arrived. i have taken epsom salt baths and two-headed showers. i have to remind myself to brush my teeth, and something about this pleases me, the hermit-nature of it. i am a virgo, this is extra. i have left the house twice, both times to walk to the nearest body of water and listen to it, the waves lapping song against the shore. looking among the ducks for the giant swans that i see bobbing there each morning. today i saw one in the late afternoon light – it looked like it was my size, so i said ‘hey thick ass swan, looking good’!

i have written for about 24 hours now, with daily dance breaks. am i delirious? only with pleasure. pun intended, but i only expect those in the know to get my drift.

please don’t ask me where i am, i appreciate feeling like there is some mystery about all of this. when i want people to know where i am, i geotag myself and scream it from the mountaintops. but right now i appreciate the solitude, even if it is mythological, or generated only from my boundaries. boundaries are life’s work! i love boundaries. this whole paragraph is a boundary, do you feel my joy?

i have been practicing not looking at incoming requests, and deflecting folks when work comes through personal channels. it’s hard and i am doing it.

the things that come through are only things that do not wait – things that make me cry instantly, an assassination, the death of someone fabulous, a new cancer, an older one, a heartbreak or two, a grief cycle.

in the face of the massive and melancholy, i appreciate how clear and small the editing process feels, how instinctive and nourishing the weaving of these pleasure tales feels. writing, total writing, is an erotic experience for me. i feel so alive.

i removed social media from my mobile devices (instagram is not social media, it’s like hbo) and yet the web of superconnection is like moana’s sea, it calls me! so i am being patient in the withdrawal, noticing each time i go out of my way to plug in, and what i actually need.

at least it is still a choice. (suspicion voice tho)

the soundtrack so far is Joi, Lizzo, DRAM, and Prince. the number one snack is homemade kale chips, tied with a homemade honey peanut butter.

happy new moon. hope to sleep soon. <3