Being Taken Care of, unexpectedly

The smell of fresh tea filling

Fall

Foraged mushrooms

From a grand mom

The steam from the mugs

This sweet morning

The light in the kitchen windows

The flowers I originally felt

Weren’t worth picking

The feet on the checkered floor

Two

Then four

Then twelve. . .

When I was 25

Living in Costa Rica

I took a bus to a town by a hill

I hiked in the heat

I arrived dripping sweat

Panting

Smiling

She walks out -

Well, her dog…

And goat

first

She’s got a soft smile, too

Hands twirling tortillas

As she steps out into the sunlight

To greet me

“Buenos dias” she says.

“Bueno dias” I reply

Loving the sound of those letters

On my tongue.

I put my bag down

And take my seat

The same one as always

A lone chair

At a small table

Against a wall in the small kitchen.

She’s at the cocina

Pots steaming with rice

Beans

And, this time - estococa

She starts to tell me what it is

Where it lives

How she found it

What it will do for my body. . .

And then

She pauses

Eyes shift

Sorrow surges

As she begins

Somewhere else. . .

“Pues cuando era nina

Mi familia….”

She seems afraid to

Say the words

But she doesn’t let that stop her.

She’s stirring the beans

I’m sipping my cafecito

Admiring how her apron hangs

How her back is strong

Perhaps something she hadn’t intended to share

But it’s spilling, now

Into the rice

As if part of the ingredients

For this meal

For this morning.

She puts it all on a plate.

Scoops it with care

And then brings it to me

In her cool, sweet

Farmer hands.

Her hands

Meeting mine

At the table.

Two

Then four…. . .

It’s midday now…

Peels from oranges

Dark chocolate crumbs.

Scattered scraps of things.

Empty tea mugs.

I didn’t know I needed

This kind of

Being taken care of.

——————

This is what came up and out onto the page for me yesterday

@ Writing Circle Session 1 at the kitchen table at ASC

——————-

Happy New Moon.

I love the new moon. I love this return to the connection of the natural cycles of a life. The authentic pace* of things- in a world and culture and upbringing where I’ve been taught to race the clock. Taught to maximize productivity. Taught to follow a Gregorian calendar that often doesn’t align with what my body needs.

mmmmmmm

It felt good to hold space yesterday for the feelings that were present in my body. To move at an authentic pace to be with those feelings. And then to have the space to write it out AS they were brewing, instead of having to “save it for later”. To be more in tune with my insides. To appreciate a nourishing meal prepared by the loving hands of a dear friend. To explore platonic intimacy* with a beautiful group of people. . .

Right now, it rains.

And I rest.

Remembering that I already have the seeds for everything I need for next week’s upcoming projects already within me.

xo

.m.

jaime

——————

*platonic intimacy- this beautiful phrase was spoken and introduced to me by Anna Adler, when we realized this could describe the nature of our relationship and is also something we’re curious about in the world.

*authentic pace- I learned this centering phrase and concept from Briana Lynn, Orgasmic Oracle Mystery School and it’s something I’ve been doing movement meditations with recently.