I am now a landlady. I have cheques and a lease and a family is going to live out a year of its life in my house. In the house where MY little family lived out four years of its life. So many lives must have passed through that little house.
It feels odd - I want to say they can just use it, just live there, enjoy it. But the bank needs me to pay for it, so I need them to pay for it. My hut sitting on Mother Earth's belly.

I'm generating a positive cash flow.

Have faith

"It'll be OK." he said. "Have faith - you're good at that."
"Faith?" I replied. "I'm good at having faith in God, in Life, in Good. That doesn't mean I have faith in you."

A lily in the valley, I'll be OK. We're all OK. I live in a country where most people are always OK. I've never been afraid of starving, or wrongful imprisonment, of torture, of being truly homeless. It's a blessed life.

So I have faith. I am loved. But this has nothing to do with a romantic relationship.

yoke yourself not

I struggle often with the tension between being in this world and being of this world. I catch myself falling for the false idols, wanting more and bigger... especially as my partner chases these things - it's hard sometimes not to be caught up in the chase. The stress on my integrity gives me pause, actually stops me cold. This frustrates my partner, who operates under a different paradigm and defines success and happiness differently.

Oh, I give it to God. Can I give it to God?

One cannot know the mind of God, but one can yearn for just a glimpse.

My fingers are raspberry stained but I had to take an antihistamine because some berries had mold.

Somehow, it's my life in a small fruit. Looks so sweet and you don't notice the hidden mold until you're already sick.

I might have missed Blogger.

Livejournal for personal and mundane entries. Facebook for daily tripe and insta-sharing. Blogger for full sentences. Apart from that one, and this one.