I am a wild woman.
I just got back from a mushroom trip in the mountains, have you been?
It’s a privilege by all accounts, an enchanting nook nestled into Mother Earth.
A Saturday at 2PM, 500 grams and going up, getting out, pink cashmere.
I laughed so hard I cried. How lucky to get the giggles. EVERYTHING IS FUNNY.
But I have to go, I can’t sit with this feeling under my skin. The urge to be back outside, to be under the full moon’s light, mountain top silhouettes. I put my outdoor pants on and take off.
The energy inside me is buzzing, I’m zooming down the path, on a mission- to what I don’t fucking know. I finally settle by a creek, the wiser older woman in me stifles the urge to skinny dip and I manage to take a few deep breaths. Omm.
Trips are never the same, things change and so do I. The yearning to get back to someone you used to know is strong but softens each day. The optimist in me thinks that softening opens the opportunity to build anew, to remold the rawness that is me. The pessimist just gets fucking pissed off and leans into bad habits.
I’m getting away from myself.
If you’ve made it this far, welcome to my mind. We hope you’ll stay awhile.