a diary of words, paper and other ephemeral things
My podcast is officially here!
I also finally made my podcast. The first episode is live. It’s called Living Practice: a podcast that explores sacred moments and creative living. It can be found on Apple Podcasts, Spotify and Substack. Please go give it a listen, follow, review, anything that doesn’t feel like too much of a burden.
Not the only thing created today but I’m working BTS on The Tarot Diaries and submission pieces.
Sunday, September 28, 2025
I’m happy to report my birthday was an ordinary day. The whole week was jam packed with different activities that kept me rather busy. I felt myself reaching for my phone a lot. When I get busy with daily minutiae, my body longs to escape. I want pretty pictures and art to aspire to. I want inspirational quotes and photos of other people’s highlight reel.
When I look at the four of wands this morning, I see the gate of the four staffs as a threshold. I see the celebration invites us into presence. It reminds us that the moment, the here and now of it, is the true threshold we are constantly standing at. If we decide to stay engage, if we push back against the impulse to pick up our phone and escape, if we decide to reclaim our attention, it is a threshold we can walk through again and again.
Daily rituals are good anchor points throughout the day for this. My altar practice, where I clean two cups to refill with water offerings, where I read my artist’s prayer, where I read from my daily readers, and I remind myself that everything is sacred…this is a pivotal anchor for me.
As some may know, I am currently working through The Artist’s Way, closing out week 5. Morning pages are also a daily ritual. Making coffee is a morning ritual. Making my nightly tea before I sit down in the evening is a ritual. All of these things pull me back. Filling the kettle. Preparing the coffee grounds, or the tea bags. Filling the cup with steaming water. Adding the honey, the coconut milk, stirring. If I can be there, in my mind, in that moment….I have crossed the threshold to presence and am reminded that this, too, is something to celebrate.
A collage done on an index card. It includes an image transfer of a woman’s back shoulders and head, she wears an ornate pearl necklace. Beneath this, two images stand out: colorful flowers behind a black and white circle, and a black and white anchor. There is red thread stitching throughout the piece, mostly in rows of four. This collage was done meditating on the four of wands.
Collage and stitching are two methods that help me to re-enter my body. This was made on Saturday after my morning pages. I found the process to be very therapeutic. I kept the four of wands card upright on my desk, following my desires intuitively for how I wanted this to turn out. Another collage I did Tuesday while meditating on the card is below.
This is a collage done on an index card. There are markings on the card, which show through the vaguely see-through image transfer on the bottom. The image is of two geese (honestly a guess) which to me symbolize the two celebrating within the card. The top portion of the collage is divided into sections, primarily black and white…except a portion between which has four vertical lines in red and outlined in black. This piece was done while meditating on the four of wands.
This piece, which I technically completed first, was done right after my first entry on this card on Tuesday. I can feel the undertone of anxiety when looking at it, but it also gives me little sparks of hope. Perhaps that is the whole point. Our practices bring us back to presence and help us feel a sense of hope again. Hope is a feeling we all should strive for during these times.
In honor of reclaiming my attention, I am trying to spend less time scrolling social media (especially while outside) or even listening to audiobooks or podcasts. It is difficult for me to admit that sometimes these distractions help me to complete tasks I have always felt resistance to.
Being outside is often an invitation to observe for me. Observation has taught me so much over the last few years living in the country. I believe this is a blue jay feather, a bird that has come to have some spiritual significance to me. I left it on the ground, as that’s where it decided to land, but did snap a photo. I was standing on the steps of our patio while the dog walked through the backyard, and I looked down for this little gift…a wink from god, the universe, happenstance, whatever. It made me smile. Gratitude swelled in my chest. That is easily a reason to celebrate.
So, I try to find balance. I see balance in the four of wands as well. We can make space for practice but also acknowledge that sometimes, at the end of a hard day, listening to a podcast while doing the dishes may be warranted. I want to think less in the way of all or nothing. I’d prefer to remember that everyday is a spectrum of our experience. Yes, we can choose our attitude and approach to life, but also circumstances can and do SUCK sometimes. Repressing the emotions that come up in these instances is not helpful. It will inspire our nervous systems to shut down, or distance themselves from the situation.
No, we can give ourself grace. We can ask for grace from god (insert whatever higher being or spiritual belief you have here — I believe all are valid). We can celebrate how far we’ve come when we allow ourselves to wallow in self-pity, then we stand up, dust ourselves off, and move on to the next thing.
There is always a next thing, another moment, a new threshold. It builds itself as we step forward. We can choose our perspective in these moments. It can be pessimistic, realistic, it can be the perspective that whatever waits on the other side is worth celebrating simply because that moment is there. And that is a miracle.
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When I entered the tiny washroom, I could still feel the bass thrumming in my veins. Dance music played outside. I escaped here, if just for a moment, to collect myself after another shot of Jack. Who knows how many shots at this point? My stomach turned, and I took a breath.
These quiet moments in the small bathroom, the only one in this bar, allowed my mind to run away from the liquor-fueled avoidance. I drank to penetrate the veil. It was though I wore a gauze shroud my entire life, every person out of focus. I was unable to touch, unable to connect, unable to truly be seen by anyone. The alcohol allowed me to pulled the shroud off of my body. I was able to be loud, and messy, and seen, and I kept telling myself “this is the closest to the true me I will ever be able to come.”
Of course, this was self-delusion. The hazy cloth that usually kept me separate from all of the people I came across in life now simply took the form of a glass wall. I look in the mirror, but I don’t see myself. I don’t recognize the girl, the person, the woman, standing there. She looks vacant in dirty little room. The light flickers and causes her skin to look sickly. I stand there staring in the mirror, not really seeing, not really recognizing the person who stood there looking back. It was time to re-enter the fray. It was time to go back into the sort-of club in the small town I swore I was going to leave to dance and drink with people I had convinced myself I had connected with.
I think deep down, I knew that I had severed all connection…most importantly, the connection to myself.
This flashback paints a little bit of a picture of the longing that fueled my depression and binge drinking during most of my 20s. Ya’ll, I sat down to write about the three of cups so many times yesterday. But the chalices in the image just keep tripping me up. What is the cheers for? What’s inside those vessels they are about to bring to their lips? Is it fuel for the fire, or cleansing water to truly see?
My initial thoughts on this card from Monday were that community was the essence, and something vitally missing from my life. It almost made me nostalgic from the days of drinking. But as one might be able to tell from the flashback above, being surrounded by people doesn’t mean you don’t feel alone. In fact, there are times it’s more isolating. It’s easy to turn blame inward. You have to be the problem, right?
I don’t remember the exact moment I decided to start chipping away pieces of myself to try and fit into the ideas I believe society has for me. I don’t think there was a solid moment where I began to shove my true self underwater in order to step forward and fit in.
But I do know my sobriety date. December 11, 2017. The day I decided to allow myself to break the surface of the water, to re-emerge to the world, to start breathing again. I don’t know…that feels like something worth celebrating.
And every single day since has been a lesson in remembering that I can continue to get to know myself. I can continue to change and evolve and grow. In the hopes of making more friends and becoming a friend to my body, we decided to join a gym this week. This is typically not a good move for me. It means wasting money and taking on the guilt of never showing up for my health.
So far it has gone well. There is a spot for the kids to hang out with other kids and play. I get to chill on the stationary bike and crochet. The husband gets to lift or do whatever he chooses. We break apart into our own little worlds, then come back together in our home. Family is also a community. Sometimes this is what can give us the strength to allow our world to expand.
I often share that my husband and kids saved my life. I think this is true. I knew for a long time I had to stop drinking, but honestly didn’t see my own life as worthy of being saved. But I could show up for those I love. I did this long enough, and worked on my own healing long enough, that now I do see that getting sober just for myself is worthy. I am worth re-building a life for. I am worth pursuing a creative career that lights me up. I am worth showing up to the gym for to take care of a body long abused and neglected.
All of this disparate parts make up my ever-shifting and multifaceted community. I celebrate with all of them. My family, my body, my mental health, my creativity, my IRL friends, my online friends, the plants and animals and insects I encounter everyday in this tiny little world I get to walk through.
How lucky to live this life. How lucky to have survived. How lucky to have learned to love…not only others, but myself. Today, I celebrate that.
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