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Dearests,

Trying this again. A little love letter.

Penned from me to you.

Where I am right now.

A little bit like the olden days of blogging. Or penpalling. Those are my favourite.

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I seek to create a little of that here.

So, a collection of where I am right now.

Right now…

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Right now, I’m down for the count with a throat infection that’s left me vacillating between voiceless and hoarse.

I’m finding myself seeing all the places and relationships where I’m not being hear, not being listened to… It’s like a dream where I’m yelling but nothing is happening and nothing is changing.

I’m done with this story, I’m done with playing this role. I’m DONE.

Inside me there is anger and strength and confidence born from this state of being done. A stronger, clearer, more powerful woman is uncurling inside me.

Thank you, throat infection, for making it all so clear.

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Right now I’m thinking of Changing Woman, and Susan Seddon Boulet‘s artwork.

I’m diving into the archetype of Shaman Woman in sacred circle.

I’m wearing black and I’m wearing red and I’m in the cave and I’m changing skins.

Right now I’m singing this song over and over at the top of my raspy voice in the car, spinning in loops around Parliamentary Hill, feeling all that rage and all that mess and all that hope too.

Right now I’m watching this:

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I’m watching LEMONADE for the first time and marvelling at all that art and anger and beauty and love and vision.

And I’m hungry for the art and that one big flow of theatric, wild vision and I’m pocketing them in my cheeks like a squirrel for winter.

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And right now I’m not making much.

And things aren’t great and they aren’t easy.

And there has been challenges and losses and “WTF JUST HAPPENED?”

Right now I am ragey and transforming and Phoenix and snake.

And I’ve learned to inhabit these feelings as much as the good ones.

Because if I push them away, they will turn to anxiety.

They will fester into shame, into some underlying song that says:

You are not allowed to feel this way. You shouldn’t feel these feelings. Only the good ones, only the good ones.

And I’ve been through enough now to say:

Fuck that.

These are my feelings. And I am allowed to have all of them. And it’s healthy for me and good and right to have all of them.

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Right now, my love is my coach, my muse. Well, he is always. But it’s amplified right now.

He tells me:

Leonie, you used to make art and we used to do all those wild creative projects together.

We used to take photos and make videos together.

And we haven’t anymore.

And it’s all gotten so serious, and it’s not so fun anymore.

And he’s right.

And he sets up the cameras and lenses and charges them and tells me:

They are just there. Ready to go.

And he takes photos of my studio while I’m out, just to send to me in a surprise folder, just to say:

Remember?

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Slowly I remember.

I’m in my Winter right now.

But there are tiny buds forming

on my naked branches.

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And my kid is wearing her big sister’s shoes, and she’s reminding me of my grandmother and great aunt.

I tell her this, and she stares at me studiously, her two year old eyes wide and blue…

and then she rolls her eyes so far back into her head that she looks possessed.

And I howl with laughter.

Because she’s my grandmother and my great aunt, but most of all, she’s herself.

All she’s ever needed to be.

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And Ostara, our sweet fairy child wakes me this morning to inform me:

“Mum, there used to be a crystal on the nature table at school. But then it wasn’t there anymore, and Gill said that a cheeky gnome must have taken it home in his pocket for a visit. And then she told us that we weren’t to squash any spiders because they are Mother Nature’s pets. And Mother Nature lives under the grass!”

I love that my kid is living in an Enid Blyton story.

And it reminds me to go visit our our gnome garden, now overgrown with August bulbs.

Spring is coming. Spring is coming. Spring is coming.

All my love,

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P.S. No reason for this, but… love.

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