shedding skin. apple trees heal me. and also, the medicine i make is the medicine i am.

i am in the in-between.


the kind of place that is part here and part there.  part pound out screams against the wall. part laying against the silent, still, hot desert sand. part backbend. part forward fold. part temple dance. part starvation. part infatuation. part illimination. part desperation. part devotion to what has been and also to what doesn't even exist yet.  

it's all totally intense and exhausting. like i am a visitor in my own body. or that my body is just a visitor around my soul. it's a serious shedding of everything i have known or defined myself as this past decade.  and also a reclaimation of it all, because i am still who i am. just more and less of her, i guess. 

and i have no language to explain it. so please bare with me.  which sounds like a big phony cop-out for someone who is suppose to be a writer, but right now writing is like pulling teeth, or worse, it’s like pulling eyelids or worse it's like bamboo shoot up the finger nails. and even though it is a remedy it is also pure poison, i hate it more than i love it at this moment so i have been staying clear.  the only thing i can do is breathe and hope it’s over soon or else breathe and try to enjoy this ride {which i flounder between both}. i have had this thick scab somewhere in me, that is partially fallen off, but under it is skin that isn’t raw, and fresh- there is yet another layer to shed.  and either i pick it all and damn it to hell and do this whole painful thing all over again,  or i sit here and let it do it’s thing {i am not wise but i am wise enough to know chose the later}.

this came as a surprise, this transition. how did it fucking happen so fast?  mostly because i was not practicing paying the best of attention to where i was. if i was i would have seen this slowly coming for the past 3 years. instead,  i was distracting myself with work and drama and people with drama and festering wounds and trying to play care taker and people pleaser.  i distracted myself with things that were just barely real, but real enough that i could throw myself into them.   i was avoiding being in nature, like really being in it, because nature is real. it’s the most real thing i know. i avoided laying on the floor for hours and watching my kids in a way of not-doing and not-talking because when i did that i learned in deep ways and i didn’t want to see the truth they were growing and fast. i avoided being truly creative because i was scared of not liking what i was going to see come out, that it would be too telling or too strong or too bold or too ugly.  i stopped writing, like really writing, because quite literally i have no language for right now and all the words i use to know have no relevance anymore, have no meaning.  

i didn’t pay attention to what was happening so it came like a punch in the gut, and when i felt it i was already in the ring of fire part. 

* * * 

i am not the full moon, ripe and fertile ready to be Mother anymore.  i am also not the dark moon, ready to teach and give wisdom yet. i am in between and it’s fucking uncomfortable as hell. i don’t know who this person, if she has anything to do with me, the one i really don’t want to let go of. for the first time in my entire life i am not happy with change. change used to be exciting and new and for some reason this change feels like i am entering an unknown that i have no interest in experiencing.  

and so i leaned into that sadness and i said to it: listen, fine, but just to let you know that eventually we have to figure this out. so give me that ache until i no longer need it. and then show me the medicine to help me cross over to what is next. 

 * * * 

a couple weeks ago when i was sitting on my bed and looking out my window into my backyard and wondering how i was ever going to get the nerve to dig into this dirt because i have have been highly unmotivated in this transition.  ignoring the pen, the paper, the paints, the food, and worst of all the massive tilled plot of land in my backyard that is going to feed my family for the next season.  i could see where i wanted the tulsi and i could see where the greens should be rooted down.  i knew right where the corn needed to reach up against the fence. i saw exactly where the purple of motherwort would spike up like badass. but i just could not move my feet in the direction of planting seeds and giving the kind of love and devotion to let them grow.  here i am, in spring, and not wanting to plant, not wanting to know the beauty that wants to push up from underneath it all. 

and then i noticed what already was growing in my yard, what had been planted 20 years before. i noticed because the flowers on the tree had just bloomed and it was now covered in white blossoms, a cloak of white silk petals everywhere. and i thought to myself, 'damn girl, you are one fine tree. a fine looking tree.'

and then like it always happens i listened to something and that something said it was time get up and go out there and take some flowers. because that was the medicine. that was my medicine. it was the medicine i was ready to become.

i won’t go into the long story i have been telling myself about apple trees and snakes and eve, it’s very much my version and it’s personal, but it’s about reclamation, transformation, adoration and a big huge shedding of skin. about being gentle and opening to harmony while letting go of old ideas and systems that are rigid and unforgiving and uncreative and the opposite of sensual. it's actually entirely sensual, the kind of sensuality that a good birth requires. 

i picked some and crafted with them and made a medicine for myself, a tool to help me through this transformation, transition, transmutation. or at least this part of it. and i think it’s working on cellular level. and it tastes really good too.  my soul skin has shed a few more layers this last week, and it’s revealing something new, red, raw, and tender to touch, it's revealing something i don't quite know but recognize like i recognize the depth in my daughter's eyes.  i guess this is all i can ask for, to be in this and feel. to be in gratitude to Feel, and in the feeling is the only way to know where to go.  

to make a shed potion or any other kind you may need:

find some apple blossoms {or other blossoms that call you to them, make sure of course they are non-toxic}

take only what you need. but before you do, give. give a prayer, a song, a hair, a dance, a nod, a note.

put the blossom in a jar.

pour a lot of honey over them. and then a little more.

then add some whiskey. and even some more.

cap it up and shake.

let it sit with some snakeskin for a month. or a special gem. or a letter you write.


enjoy daily. 


and also. i got a tattoo.