Earth Wind and Fire Live

Dear M,

I’m going to do something characteristic here, and dive in. This astrology and what I’m about to tell you has me in a place of boldness and sharing.

I was in the bathroom just after getting the kids to bed. I noticed how good I felt and attributed it to 3-hours free from parenthood and witnesses. I thought, Katie needs to get away like this. Four days, no husband, no kids… I was imagining Katie on a runaway-mom vacation, in a quaint artist’s country town. Then I recalled that that’s improbable for breast-feeding mother of three babies Katie.

My night has been filled with creative pursuits. I’m building a playlist for my best friend’s wedding, I painted my nails, and I relaxed. I began playlist efforts tonight by googling “music from my best friend’s wedding.” From that stupid starting point I eventually found myself dancing to Earth Wind and Fire Live in Japan from like 1987 or something.

I had space to talk to myself, and listen. It was a religious experience for a bit. I was seated on the stoop having a loving conversation between myself, baby ego me; mother, yoked-up beast of burden; and father, the exalting joy of loving life. The conversation was halted by a shaft of the last sun behind a of houses. Everything came into heart-breakingly clear focus. I felt the father represented in the transcendent voluptuous clouds and me, cowering ego, neurotic with energy in fear of human rejection. Mother, standing by me, shushing me, encouraging me at the respective best times. But very quietly, so I will listen.

When I’m so busy mothering, working, sacrificing all day most days, I don’t get a chance to slow the fuck down and listen. When I am able to hear mother, she leads me to grace and the inner father, exalting, joyous, creative.

You know all this. You’re one of us. I’ve been having several very tense days, just because. No time for mothering my own self. Katie, who can say all the things I’ve just spewed out in flowery excess in her own, tender scrubbed cabin in the woods of the soul, has just broken her last mothering $20 and needs to get out and fill the well stat, before she goes broke wiping one more muddy mess.
Lord don’t stop me now, I’m using all the metaphors!

You’re a writer. And woman who mothers too hard, and needs a break (to be herself, in her creative ways). If dinner one night is all we’ve bargained for this time around, then let’s make it happen!

Can you do the 25th or another time soon?

All the love, encouragement, and beastly-ness,

p.s. I’m totally going to post this on my blog. It wouldn’t be the first time.


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