Winding down — or: what I'm carrying right now
In my garden, change becomes something I can touch.
That's where I remember what change smells like.
I watch what shifts, I tend, I'm moved. A life that teaches me to be still.
In tango I find clarity and surrender.
No looking for mistakes, just listening for connection.
What matters is the moment — not the destination.
The bees remind me that the whole is greater than we are.
One body, made of many. And that sometimes, sharing is how things survive.
I keep meeting limits — in relationships, in plans, in what I ask of myself. Failure makes me humble. It shows what's left when nothing is working.
I'm in awe of darkness and sunlight, of ravens calling, of everything that grows, even unseen. And I find myself wondering how we compost experience so that social systems can breathe again.
So that life keeps moving.