The Fruitful Darkness

And Also: Returning Light

Hello, my loves!
I am trying something new now: attempting a weekly writing.
We will see how this goes - my promise to myself this year is abundant nurturance, so we will see how this lands.

But I am attempting, and I am glad you are here with me on this journey.

Some of these writings will be behind paywalls; many won’t. Whichever way you participate with my work, I appreciate you.

And lastly, this week’s announcements:

1. Our next Inner Child Art Dayte is on 3/9! Once again at the beautiful Thread Studios in Bushwick, BK. I’d love to have you.

2. I still have some space in my practice for 1 on 1 clients. I’m excited to invite in those who want to work together in this capacity - in rooted, embodied presence. Schedule a free, 20 minute discovery call here to learn more!

OK. That’s all for now. On to the writing.

I was reminded of this Trevor Hall song this morning.

The fruitful darkness
Is all around us
In bloom

Does it feel this - for all?

---

Three months ago, just about, my partner and I broke up. This was both of our first serious relationship in a while, and we’d been friends before we transitioned to lovers.

The breakup was mutual, and loving, but no less difficult for it. Nights we spent crying in one another’s arms, lamenting that we knew this was the right path forward. Dark were my own evenings, hollowed in my house, questioning the decision we had made. Rough were the mornings where I’d wake up, alone again, after having someone I cared for so deeply beside me - for years.

The dark within my dark
Is where I found my light
The fruit became the doorway
And now it's open wide

It’s so tempting to want to write from “the other side.” To say this as if I am healed, and whole, and far beyond the pain of this relationship.

But I’m not. And my practice lately, as I told a collaborator today, is to be with the mess.

So, I had to find my way through
I had to find my way through
I had to find my way through

---

I’ve loved many people, in so many different shapes. People older than me and younger than me and my age; people in my city and across the country; people similar to me and some vastly different. Love has always arrived in blossoming technicolor, filling me with wonder at its touch.

And heartbreak - also a frequent visitor, the price we pay for loving deeply - has similarly bloomed in vivid light, shattering me into myriad pieces myriad times.

Yet every time -

Every time -

I do learn. So much.