Entry #1: The Weakening

The Earth has always felt like home, but Nature offers me only isolation. I don’t hear their whisper. Deep within the Minnesota wood silence speaks volumes. My tremors are worsening; I feel my muscles weakening. The words on your screen are glyphs etched into stone by what magic I can presently muster. Know them, and know me.

Sight, by eye or ear, transforms. The sky is bright on an evening in July. 2024 A.D. – I find my eyes full of syrupy visions. Time, thick and cloying, carries in its viscous sphere all the pain and joy of the last eight years. What I wish, I may take. That which I jettison sinks low into the ancestral consciousness. Like a message in a bottle, it will resurface; I will be ready. And so I ask, are you? As what little magic I have does its work, will you bear witness to that work and, in doing so, nurture it?

If so, send me a message. Let me know you, thank you, and transform you in kind.