Starmoth Press

a diary of words, paper and other ephemeral things

Tag: writers

  • The Tarot Diaries: Temperance

    Read the essay

  • Attention is magic: the leaf portal

    I’m sharing my writing in a new space on ig, attentionismagic. But I’ll also be sharing here and on substack.
    New stickers for the mail club just dropped. They’ll also be available to purchase separately. Check it out here

  • New fiction piece is live 💚

    I’m writing a serial fiction over on Substack. It’s called Dear Lila: Refraction Road. It’s a meditative, surreal journey through an imaginal world where I meet an…interesting group of companions. It’s weird and trippy, I would love if you checked it out! Once complete, it’s my dream to compile it, edit it and make a new collage for each segment to publish into a limited edition book 💚


    Read it here

  • Creative play session

    This is how I feel better

  • The tarot diaries: ace of pentacles

    My collage for the ace of pentacles

    Read the essay here

    this week’s edition of The Tarot Diaries is now available. We’re talking about the ace of pentacles, how the hand is offering you the pentacle just as Morpheus offered Neo the red pill out of the matrix, about analog practice, about cooking and the moments that make sobriety and presence worth it.

  • Journal Explorers Club Quest


    Go for a walk
    Find a landmark
    Draw or describe it (yes outside)
    Ask it for advice on your quest
    Write what comes to your mind first
    Repeat until you feel you have enough data

    Stay tuned

  • The Tarot Diaries: The Three of Cups

    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?

    A collage made with vintage materials found during my artist dates recently. Also used one of my image transfers I tried the first week of The Artist’s Way program. Note to self: do more of these.

    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.

  • The body is sacred: a poem


    There may be meaning to taking quick steps; walking in circles; making loops again and again.
    Our cells beg, they want acts of devotion radical care for the complex systems which make up a body.
    Our brain may resist, asking for stimulation, crying for satisfaction.
    For so long, you caved.
    Now you see light at the end of the tunnel. You know wisdom comes from your chest…your beating heart…your pumping blood. It’s drumbeat that sounds the call of your soul; you’re never-ending vibration.

  • This project is a weekly walk with an individual tarot card. I will analyze the card. I will connect it with personal anecdotes. I will make art that represents the card. I will try to embody the spirit of the card (or allow its’ spirit to embody me). I will look at the days of that week to see how the chosen card shows up in my day to day life. It will be a practice of getting to know myself, getting reacquainted with the tarot, and coming back into my life. Tune in for status reports daily-ish, or get the full week’s work in a delivered newsletter. 

    This weeks card is strength

    This morning I pulled the tarot card strength, which is card 8 of the major arcana. At first glance, I see the figure attempt to open the lion’s mouth. This is done in a tender way, but also forceful. It makes me think of walking my dog. She is constantly trying to eat things I don’t know that she should eat. I am consistently trying to open her mouth to spit out a bug or a plant I haven’t identified, or a piece of garbage left on the street.

    Ultimately, this practice of walking our dog, who we got a year and a half ago, has been the natural force to get my feet moving and my eyes open. Admittedly, I am still on my phone more than I would like, sometimes while walking her. Even if I tuck the phone away, I still struggle when I think of walking without music or an audiobook or podcast. But, since about midsummer, this has changed.

    Walking has turned into a meditation. It’s an act of presence. I have paid more attention to my surroundings. I have paid more attention to nature. I have learned a lot about my environment. I have met more people. I have written poems. I have gotten downloads for creative project ideas. I have felt…in flow.

    This comes back to strength because it brings me back to myself. Much like the infinity symbol above the person’s head in the card, I am reminded of forever returning. The daily minutiae used to be the bane of my existence…now it is an act of worship. I still struggle to pick up a dishcloth everyday. Laundry remains in the washer too long. But I am gentler. I am a buoy that gently rocks back and forth, back and forth. I may stray from the practices that help to keep me aligned with my body, my values, my soul…but I find my way back, each time a little bit quicker.

    It also makes me think of the forever-ness of living this creative life. What does it look like to start a project, to walk away without berating yourself or feeling like a failure, only to return when the time is right? There is often artwork I share because the art of sharing is an instant gratification I LOVE. I make things, and immediately want to show them to every person I know. This includes you, dear internet friend. I want to show you too. Strength is holding some projects back, tenderly, forcefully. It is knowing that some things require incubation. Not everything must be birthed immediately.

    I am learning this in my art practice. I will often tune in with a medium, work in it, and end up unfinished and unsatisfied with the end result. BUT…but…but, when I let it simmer. When I let the magic bake into it completely and then return to it? Usually it takes new shape, and ends up as something whole. I’m thinking this is what will be required of me as I continue writing. Some things are perfect for that immediate satisfaction. There are other projects, the big, scary projects I have been avoiding because of “insert favorite excuse here” that require patience.

    I think strength and patience are perhaps sisters. Or at least cousins.

  • I finished a sweater and update on the artists way (week two)

    freehand crochet sweater done, using lots of yarn from the first fiber festival I went to earlier this year 💚 my creativity takes many forms. 🦋

    I am on week 2 of the artist’s way, where I saw more struggle and reward.