|Moma Fauna & A Wordless Love Letter: A living shrine to Nyx & her many children. |
Thousands of beads -- each one an essential word in the sweaty, sparkly wordless-ness of my gesture to Her.
It has been a very long while. The time has given me an unexpected new perspective and a sense of investment in things I may otherwise have ignored. Our household still remains without a computer & the telephone &/or Blogger is/are quite uncooperative. First I tried to text this message to myself & paste it here, but it did not work, so I pasted my texts & emailed them to myself so that I might once again paste & make it work... Do you remember when we used a typewriter? It was easier. Or something. Perhaps it is all in the expectations. I lament my inability to keep record of our family doings -- first & foremost, I write here for the children. But I also lament the absence of my own self-expression, the processing of thoughts, ideas, memories, happenings with words. In all the gaining of perspective & investing in new investments, I also have discovered that I miss my Love Letter. More often than I realized, this is a place for me to write Love letters. To you, to me, to the Old Ones, the new ones, to Love itself, to the Universe, to... I always tell myself I don't write to an audience here (save for the ABC pieces) because this is not for pleasing a vast & intangible world full of mysterious readers. It is not my entry into a popularity contest. It is not my ticket to fame. It is just my "truth" (lowercase "t") for today. Except, I keep writing love letters. If you understand this, or even think you might, I have probably written a love letter which was for or about you. I am not really missing the internet much. But I miss you. I miss writing you Love letters. I suppose I also miss writing. In the interim, I am learning to create Love letters with sequins & beads, with my body, breath & sweat, with foodstuffs & kindnesses, with my heart & the hearts of others in my fleshworld. Lady Moon rises tomorrow, ripe in the midst of Her absolute rule. Oh! How I miss writing Her Love letters with words! Oh! To do so now! But the fickle phone says, "Keep it short & sweet, sister." So I say: I Love You. And you.