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  • Writer's picturematilde tomat

reserv·ātiō /05

I am reading [again!] If Women Rose Rooted by Sharon Blackie. I am thinking of my adapting, disconnecting and re-connecting just to lose everything and myself again, cyclically. A thought just popped: what if we didn’t have to work? What if we could avoid the step working > money > buying food and head to the direct be at one with nature > eat what you grow or what you can barter?

I feel I am rooted in the Wasteland of greyness, concrete, and shallowness and detachment from nature. I remember that version of me who was all black professional sleek trolley and high-heel shoes, proud of showing my badge as a PA, knowing the ins and outs of Excel and Sage, and straightening my hair because that is what he wanted. Now I just want to go back to that version who worked the land, grew her own veg, raised geese and chickens and made love in a corn field on a warm summer night when blackbirds wake up singing.

I want to expand that version by making offerings to wells and ponds and water bodies, celebrating every Friday by cleaning my altar and re-dedicating to Freya, Hekate, Keto, and Artemis. I want to walk barefooted on sand and grass and bog. I want to feel mesmerised when I encounter wild animals who stop in their tracks to look at me. I want to talk to the waters, to share secrets with trees, to listen to the whispers of the wind, and to bathe in the wisdom of rain.

Nothing else. Nothing else.


onwards + upwards > out + about



Date : 6 OCT 2023

Duration : zero

Steps: zero

Location : undetermined

Weather : windy

T : 17°

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