Present Moment Clutch

Right there, at the center of all things

At the top of this forever-now

 rests a place where wonderment and risk are married

where the infinity of what's possible

thrills and terrifies and spellbinds our animal brains.

Will we thrive?

Will we die?

Will there be stasis?

Never for long.

Sometimes we hesitate to reach out of what feels safe

because we know that being bitten is just as much of a possibility as being caressed.

I think regret might be worse.

Regret is a deathbed for thousands of worthy threads we never followed,

all the bright ribbons that whispered, "this way!"

as we stood rooted in our desire for something constant.

For safety.

All of the risk-takers I know live in technicolor.

They use fear as their seasoning, counting on it as a companion not-always wise but always present.

If everything is a risk

and we get to decide how we dance with that, these folks are 

doing the twist atop a swan float party boat on the river Styx.

Or very quietly finding the groundless center of their lives on a meditation cushion.

All effort is brave and worthy.

Here's what I know:

you cannot get small enough

humble enough

or isolated enough

to avoid that stunning verdant scaly visitor.

All we know for certain is that we're alive and at some point we die.
you either cower in the dark

or reach for the light

or fucking conga-line the shit out of this
present moment.

So? So.

I'll see you on the dance floor, Star.
.

Fine double milled veg-tanned leather

tooled and painted and stitched

lined in blood red suede

wild war-paint touches of crimson and turquoise chevron spikes

Southwest-inspired turn latch

warm and wild

and

in the

Leather Shop

later today

.

I just got back from Washington state a few days ago. I spent four days surrounded by friends and love, where one of my best girls sat with her own eternal now,

one that is sharp and beautiful and painful.

In her now she monitors and combats cancerous cells

and also she gardens.

She attends constant doctor's appointments

and builds jewelry from scratch.

She lives on the knife edge

where grief and bravery

and grace and humor

collide

.

…

In her now she is bitten. Blooming still.

In her now she is gifted.

Walking through the fire.

Visiting.

Visited.

We've started a GoFundMe page

for her treatment and healing:

please 

DONATE

.

xoxo,

Sunny