scattered
a poem and practical tips for coming back
(Author note: I wrote this poem a few days ago before I moved into my new place.)
i have a plan to ask my loved ones to
scatter my ashes in places i have loved
like a scavenger hunt, like a posthumous introduction to
the ways i was invited to change
to places i was lucky enough to see
with my heart
today, my possessions include:
2 medium moving boxes
1 backpack
1 drum bag filled to its edges with clothing and shoes
1 blue moving bag
1 carry-on suitcase
1 large hardside suitcase
1 cross body purse
2 black cats
2 large carriers
myself
all of us are scattered now,
boxes in one place
some of my clothes here and there
some drying on pink plastic bar chairs
cats who follow me until they hear a noise
and hide beneath this velvet couch
i am so many places
and i can’t remember where
or if
i have things i deemed precious enough
to shove between old towels
and heavy books
and crossed fingers
(please don’t break)
but things shatter when scattered
and i have laid eyes open
looking at ceilings i have met before
with feelings i had not folded as carefully as
may have been helpful
or easier to reveal to myself
and everyone who wants to help me along the way of
moving to a road that is said to mean,
“a far away place”
i find it not so surprising that being so far away
has brought me closer to myself
to the truth of who i am
and what i think i could be
and how adept i have become at calling my own name
and i only got here 12 days ago
but i have been preparing for 266 days
as of this moment
there are things i could not bring
there are things sitting in friends’ homes because
i didn’t want to abandon them
so i didn’t
but they’re not here yet
maybe i will feel complete when they are
maybe i will breathe when they are
maybe having an address
will enable these arrivals
maybe home arranges itself
when it does
When you feel scattered, I encourage you to:
Take a breath and look around the room you’re in. Notice that you are somewhere, even if your brain isn’t. Your body is HERE. Right here. And that matters. Notice it.
Clean one thing. Move books into a pile. Collect your pens and put them in a cup. Take out the trash. Hang up one piece of clothing. Fold a pair of socks.
Put your phone down. The news will still happen. The people will still have opinions about everything. Walk away for five minutes. Walk out of the room. Walk out of the front door. Walk away. You can come back. But also, walk away.
Listen to your body. If you are hungry, eat. If you need to go to the bathroom, go. If you need to close your eyes, close them. If you need to sit, sit. Let the soft animal body love what it loves.
Ask your attention to return. Picture it as threads pulling you in so many directions. Wind the threads back in. And if you can’t see this, imagine threads curling into a ball. Bring all of yourself back to yourself. Return, return.
These times are big times. These times are teaching and telling and trying. You can also teach yourself something here. You can tell yourself something. You can try.
You can try again.
Exciting Author News
My next Pagan Portals book, The Muses: Calling to Creativity and Inspiration, is set to be released at the end of February. It’s gotten some lovely reviews, which you can read here and here.
This book was written specifically with these times in mind. For in perilous times, we need creativity and inspiration more than ever.
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March 6-8: Water Priestess Confluence - IRISANYA10 gets 10% off
Pantheon: Stories of Love, Power & Magick from Greek Mythology - online - TBD
HEARTists Way: Connecting to Creativity & Inspiration - online - TBD
Elements of Magick — TBD
Rites of Passage — TBD
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I realize the poem is about your physical journey, but it resonates on so many other levels, too. Thank you for sharing.
I'm so glad you and the cats made it! Wishing for calmer days ahead! 🩷🩷