blood and stuff.

Checking in...


Sisters, sirens. I just started bleeding.

I thought I was pregnant, my stomach was so bloated. I had been weirdly, mildly nauseas for days and just nasty, just in a nasty mood which I couldn’t find the root of. Walking around my house in a haze, I felt something slide down my leg. I figured it was some glob of mucus which would confirm my pregnancy fears. I reached my hand down to wipe and to my surprise my fingers were covered in bright red blood.

It has been 2 years and 8 months since I bled with the moon. This is only the fourth time i've shed lining since 2003. I don’t know what feels crazier; to have it back or to not have had it for so many years.

I got it yesterday and last night was a total trip. Between insomnia, panic attacks, strange, full body shivery chills (which I was sure was spirit matter haunting my bedroom) I only got 2 hours of sleep. I saged my bedroom over and over and forced R to basically rock me in his arms on the couch until I got drowsy and could fall to sleep. I felt like I was leaping between words, being sliced in half and being asked to go deep into the underworld, to where the roots meet the earth and then beyond. There was nothing fun about it in the moment. It was freaky and uncomfortable, and I fought it. Kind of like birth, though, I look back today and think, cool, that was pretty cool.

Powerful business that bleeding and moon thing. We actually get to bleed this much without injury or sickness. I am always surprised why we go to such great lengths to conceal it or ignore it’s presence. I’m always looking behind me down at my ass to make sure nothing has leaked through.

Taking care of the kids today did suck. I wanted nothing more than solitude all day long, to daydream in the sun, under trees, by the river. Or to roam the herb store. Or to sleep in bed without interruption. But the way it worked, I even had an extra kid, sweet Willow. Luckily all the girls played really harmoniously all day so I got to disconnect a little bit. But really, moon lodge is like the best invention ever and I can see why the wise women of other cultures practice/d it. When I was in Jamaica we’d joke about the country ladies bleeding huts. They were cast aside from the house from the man when they would bleed, being seen as ‘too dirty to cook or clean”. it sounds so horribly wrong, so unbelievably fucked up, but really, it‘s perfect and needed. I could just hear the mama’s in there, ‘dats right mon, mi so dirty wid mi blood. Do ya own cookin’, do your own everyting! I jus sit in here in bleed wid mi sistren” and then they’d cackle and laugh and bitch about their men and the kids and life in the third world and bleed right into the dirt floor.

I have nothing in my house. No blood protection. I have been using toilet paper and the baby’s old cloth diaper liners. The amount of blood coming out is not too much, not too little. It’s a deep red, new, nothing old and from before. It’s like the blood of birth, a new blood.

I mentioned to a friend my moon came back. She said to me ‘time for another baby’. and she’s right, but not a human baby, more like the birth of a new time for me. My baby is growing up, independent already at one. She needs me less and less. And my mind wanders to all the projects and work I want to do ‘outside’ the home. This blood is my indictator of transformations. I am back in the world.

That’s kind of fucking scary and welcome all at once.

* * *

I know this is my first check in in a while. I’ve been keeping inside a lot. My world is sorta of collapsing. To start going public with our words, to reveal so much about ourselves, is hard, necessary, but hard as nails. But to go public right now, when moments in my life are outrageously confusing and stressful and blurry and bloody, well, that’s intense. So I hold back a bit here. Not sure I am ready to undress completely yet. Bu I am warming up to strip for all. Today I will take of my shirt, slowly, and reveal the ache in my heart.

My whole perception has to shift. Completely. I always thought there was a home, the perfect home, to ground and lay my bones down every night in. A place to plant trees. A place to come back to after travels and global explorations, and really feel like I was back home, cozy, the same view out my bedroom window. I liked the thought of having a place to always keep in the family, for the kids, for their kids.

And now I am at a place, never sure if it was The Place, but still a nice place and one that I would have liked to be in for a couple years at least, three maybe. And now I am a crux of having to accept that another move, a temporary rental, most likely in the middle of the city, will be in our near future. Oh the guilt. To move the girls again. To take them from a place they love. To shake up their lives. And at the same time I believe in signs and being lead by my greater force. And maybe I am being drawn to the next step, the next opening. And the reason why will be revealed someday, someday I will have an a-ha moment know why we were meant to be here, for a short time, and meant to move on.

In the process of surrendering to all this has taken a toll on me. I spend a lot of the day with my mind wandering, fractured, trying to calculate logistics and visualize a new and even sweeter place, half the price of the current one, but with just as amazing gifts. I watch my mind sort and organize and cleanse and pack our things once again. I go over who I will give things to, what will go to goodwill. I try to manifest someone to come in and want to buy our place but still let us come up and play on the land with the girls, take the apples, collect the flowers, hang out with the horses. I manifest a buyer, not a forclosure.

This is all part of some kind of fucked financial karma we work on and the lessons that are always in front of us. It’s all perception, my perception. Home is were we all are. Things don’t make me happy. Be grateful for the basics, the bare minimum. My kids are resilient. If I keep myself healthy and happy, they will be kept healthy and happy.

I am tired of moving, but know i am being called to, for reasons that live deep inside my blood. We are nomads, a traveling circus of sorts; me and my clan. always have been. I know that movement is what we all need, some kind of peaceful river carrying us a long. a peaceful river. peaceful. river.

* * *

And I am off. For now. For you to hear me right now, seeing through the screen to my smile and dark and dancing childlike eyes, you’d know how much I love you all without me even having to write it out. But I will. I love you.


Bless up.
Foxy.