1. Dream of remembering my yoga posture and driving long distances.

2. Grassy shadows. 

3. No one seems to like my "figure out breakfast on your own" mornings. I'll cook tomorrow. 

4. I go through and map out the months and feel this weight on one side of my body that means that something is not right. I've spent far too many years questioning my intuition, wondering if I've confused it (intuition) with resistance to the hard stuff. 

5. I can do hard things. 

6. I know this is a library book but I begin to dog-ear the pages. This is a book I'll need to go and buy and reread later. 

7. "How can one, however, in any other terms than in the symbols of power?" - The Fire Next Time

8. I fold the laundry and think and think. Then I grab the notebook and write to her. A letter I will probably never send but I think that maybe bits and pieces of this will become something. I try to explain these three anchors and what they mean to me at this moment: "honor life," "legacy," and "sovereignty." These words are hefty. 

9. At some point, I ought to vacuum up these spider webs in the sills. I make a mental list of all things that will need to be done. It doesn't overwhelm me. But it is a very long list. 

10. I pick a dessert for our guests to enjoy on Sunday. A kind of deconstructed strawberry shortcake. I'll need some small mason jars for this. I'll use fresh mint from the garden. I'll whip the cream by hand. It will be a good Sunday.