The Shifting

Sometime over the last months, I’ve become the girl who can only fall asleep to the sound of thunderstorms, windstorms, or oceans, next to crystals, and burning oils. Lavender, preferably. If there’s no window or terrace door open, sleep isn’t coming.

I carry rose quartz, and little bottles of lavender oil to heat small roads to sleep. There is a ritual, the sole/soul intention of which is to make peace before rest. I have not shared any part of it with anyone because it still feels like a small soap bubble ready to burst should anyone get too close. And I am still learning how to fill, and keep her.

I am softer since she came, and I intend to find more of her.

Today, I am grateful for:
1. Bare feet in sand.
2. Journal pages made thicker with humidity.
3. The ocean. I have missed you desperately; see you soon, old friend.

Ottawa | Day 234 | July 22, 2019

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