Fermentation . 1


Currently, on my counter, I have some lacto-fermented soda doing its thing, some bubbling sourdough culture, and some souring kefir.

All of these products went into their respective glass jars as one creation and will come out as something completely different and exactly the same.

I love that.

I like to be reminded that there is life in inconspicuous places.

Chasing the Cloud


I’m afraid of losing you.
I’m afraid of how good it feels when you’re around and how hard it is to find you.
I’m afraid that you’ll leave again and I’ll labour with hands and words and reddened faces to find you;
to speak to you;
to manufacture you,
but you won’t be there.
I’ve been trying to find breath for so long.

Trying to breathe deeply for so long, but the air keeps getting stuck in that part of my chest right before it hits the throat.
It’s too far down to pull out. My mind wants to think it away.
To create something else so I won’t be disappointed.
I can’t though. I’m disappointed without. I can’t not be disappointed.
I still hope, I still want for, I still wax poetic.
You’re still on my lips even when you’re far from my breath.
But please, oh please, just stay near me.
Be in my lungs and the rush out of my mouth.
Be the coating of my words and the penning of my hands.
Do the things and say the things that I don’t even understand; that I can’t even think or fathom.
Be better for me than I am for myself.
Be for my own good.

Please don’t rise from the weight you carry right now.
On my chest, on my eyelids, on my shoulders.
The weight telling me to stay seated. To take another moment. To take another drink.
The internal/external working & reworking of weight + weightlessness.
The ok-ing of all my thoughts and all my images.
The positive self-talk that is transforming my lenses.



It’s early in the morning on this random Wednesday day and I’m feeling pretty ok as I think about the hours of pretty non-ok that I’ve felt in the last few days.

Moments, emails & conversations from earlier this week left me with the desire to flee & quit. My pain from the hurts of people around me have demanded all my energy and I’ve been throbbing my way through the past few days.

This morning I watched an interview with Brene Brown where she made a comment that the people who can handle the most amount of discomfort rise to the top the quickest. My dad has said a similar thing… that the defining attribute of people of influence is their ability to handle pain.

So the desires to quit, re-route, and ignore taunt me. They tell me that enduring the beating is the only way I’m going to find the path that I’ve longed to travel on. But I wonder if there will be anything left of me if I do this. Is the bruised, wrinkled person, with all the mementos, the triumphant one or is she the one who has been hiding in the shade for 30 years, unweathered, but underdeveloped?

I force myself to think ahead in an attempt to convince my ‘now’ self that I should act on the desires of my ‘future’ self. I conjure my bravest words and grab some pleasant imagery with which to decorate my thoughts. I take deep breaths and long pauses, speak clearly and without emotion. But so far, my ‘now’ self keeps hanging up on my ‘future’ self. I’ll have to try again tomorrow.