Return to Cinnamon

I seems strange how change has returned in a way it hasn't in some time now.

I can feel "me" again.

I noticed a large "twin" maple in our neighbor's yard yesterday (pic forthcoming). It is h-u-g-e. Old. Steady.

I told Tom: "I want to go talk to that tree."

He choked on his coffee.

For most of my life, I had a deep connection to nature. I loved the outdoors, creatures in it, rocks, trees. I have had many times when I have felt my connection to the greater Gaia strongly.

Maybe it was easier when I was younger, living in Montauk, NY. Being close to the water. Hitch-hiking, mountain biking and living my life just as free as any young *man* would... I went out alone for happy hour and spent lots of time just writing and being. My only possessions: one suitcase of clothes, two boxes of books, and my bike. I was a nomad for a long time. People called me the Cinnamon Girl (long amber hair, free spirit, independent).

But when my mom got cancer in the mid-nineties I was called upon by my family to return to their lives and help care for her.

So began my slow process of losing my connection to myself. I have a great family; they just thought it was a bit odd that I liked to go sit in the grass for an hour and do nothing other than breathe.

Add my own diagnosis with cancer in 1997 (irrefutable proof to me that I was *not* my body; but as to what I am, what we all are, still not sure); after that, a five year abusive relationship with one of the biggest mooches on the planet, and a general stumbling around in my little life.

I fell into grad school. Waded through first years of teaching and coursework, partying a lot (until I met Tom). Feeling that the days of Cinnamon were lost forever, but chasing after them thinking that I would find her again at the bottom of a Ketel One dirty, dry martini.

It seems she's right where I left her. In the care of the trees and the grass and the earth. You may notice a change in my blog for the coming weeks. I don't know.

I feel the need to turn toward something more positive, less snarky, a small patch of peace away from all of chaos and hate of these psychotic battles over the finite "things" I see when I read or watch news.

It's time for me to spend some time outside again... outside the anger and sadness consuming so many lives. Political Skye will still be here; she just may not shout as loudly.

Happy Thursday, All.