A Rainy Morning and a Bright Future (a blog entry with a bonus poem about chickens)

This morning’s view on the farm through the rain.

It’s a rainy morning here on the farm. I’m inside sitting on the new couch with Snowflake, the cat, listening to ChilledCow YouTube radio. I’m drinking my third or fourth cup of coffee with milk and sugar, but feeling very peaceful. I had a wonderful morning

Last night was hard. It would feel somewhat nice to detail why, here, but I won’t because of the personal nature that involves others. I’ll just say, last night I worked myself up into a state of great despair and feelings of abandonment. It’s so strange to talk about these times when I feel so sound of mind right now. Anyway. This morning I did my ketamine treatment and sat outside with Joey, watching the rain over the pond. I felt very close, and loved. It was incredibly special.

Depending on who you are, Joey would be a difficult person to be in a relationship with. Namely, if you are jealous and the type who compares themselves to others. I am unfortunately this type of person at my worst. I was feeling insecure this morning that I don’t have such a clear vision. But then I started to think about working together instead. Joey is quite remarkable. I won’t detail that now, because it would take a lot of time. But suffice to say, he makes remarkable things happen. One of his ideas for the future is a retreat. I’ve been thinking a lot about this dream this morning.

My first at home ketamine treatment I came to the realization that all identities aside, I am an artist. This art takes several forms, and it is also just in how I live my life. It is who I am. This journey, I realized that I also want to heal people. It is a part of healing myself. What I loved about my experience as a published author was hearing from people that my words helped them. A lot of people, expressed or implied that my words got them through very dark times. I know what those dark times can look like. Two of my books deal with suicide; three deal with self-destruction.

I am still healing from complex traumas. I am learning all about healing methods, even those for which I have skepticism. Through my own epic journey of trying to heal, I have become a student of so many different fields. Psychedelics. Crystals. Yoga. Meditation. EMDR. DBT. CBT. PTSD recovery methods. Aromatherapy. Art therapy. Western psychiatric medicines, like SSRIs and the like. Many different psychological and spiritual schools of thought. Self-inquiry, self-healing, self-therapy, when there is nowhere else to turn. Writing as a way to empower yourself and find your voice. Nature as a healer. Healing powers of bodies of water. The healing power of animals. And more recently, I’m following an interest in acupuncture, acupressure, herbal remedies, mushroom healing properties, chakras, and Reiki. Somehow I became something of a hippy, haven’t I?

I have accumulated so much firsthand knowledge on the subject of healing. I know that it’s my calling in life to be an artist and a healer. I can clearly see myself doing this in this beautiful space that we have found ourselves in. I’m so grateful. I feel the future is bright.

And now, my poem.


Ridiculous things, all so feathery

Fluffed up each morning at dawn and at night

Cooing and clucking oh so pleasantly

And they think they are capable of flight!

Independent women, each on her own

Plump beyond all imagination

Yet they make friends and are never alone

They fill me with up with complete elation

To think they were tiny chicks in a box

Is as hilarious as it is absurd

Now fully grown, their rotundity shocks

The most glorious of the barnyard bird!