I made tie-dye shortbread cookies for a coworker. I beat the butter with a metal whisk and rolled the dough with my washed hands. Pinwheels of reds and pinks and blues and greens formed lightly at the centers. I packaged the cookies and delivered them and met a friend; a being, like me, of the simplest enjoyments.
“From my rotting body flowers shall grow; And I am them And that is eternity.”
Dr. Kimmerer says she wishes she could photosynthesize and that one day, when her body is a basis for new plants, she will. The fear of dying or of killing something else, as I have it, is tempered by this thought: we are each part of everything and in that we cannot die.
A list of what I’ve been grateful for these past few days:
- my friends
- my roommate
- my best friend
- my comfy bed
- my cats
- the ability and honesty to know myself and what i want
- my morning bus ride and my job
- cold brew coffee
- wide windowsills
- pet-safe cleaning wipes
“Home is where the heart is,” and so, I try and always be home; a being of passion.
I want passion. I want genuine interest when I share myself. I want to be gushed over. I want to be framed on the walls like a Christmas-gift painting. If no person is an island then we are all shores, buffeted by winds of time and waves of change. And so maybe I can be passion to and of those I never thought I could be.