Yesterday I cleaned the house. My home. From top to bottom with elbow grease and burning sage. I tore up disappointments and collected broken hearts for my compost and laid them to rest among the worms and coffee grinds.
I honor my sacred space because I built it with my own hands and my own dreams. I honor it because they want me to be ashamed of my hard work or collapse under its burden. They don't know that it's what keeps my fire stoked. That the many hours harvesting seeds has given me a bumper crop of hope and rosemary to chase away the unwelcome spirits that come knocking on my door.
I pickled jalapenos too because it is nothing short of a minor crisis not to have these thin green disks to warm my belly with their thick seeds. I listened to bachata to warm my heart--and yes, my--well, you know. I even danced in the kitchen, the whisks and spoons and mason jars full of vinegar and jalapenos my dance partners. I danced because there are those that want me broken, not the supple sapling that bends and shakes and dances in the wind.
And my words...not everyone wants me to have them. But the second they take one away I just write another and another until the darkness is swept away in the flood of my story. They are afraid of my body too. My hips. And square shoulders and the steady gaze that won't look down. Let them be. Let them quake as I plant my feet firmly into the earth and spread my joy like the roots of trees--underground, perhaps imperceptible to some, but the foundation for a stronger future.
Let them watch the hope blossoming in my body with each sun salutation and wonder that I sway my hips--those things they wish they didn't want to hold on to--when my heartbeat is the only music. Let them know that I relish the way the sun kisses my bronze skin and keeps me warm when others would stamp out my fire. And when they would try to extinguish my joy, I let laughter bubble from my throat like a thirst-quenching brook. I let my hands relish the feel of my dreams being coaxed to life between my fingers like the red clay of my beloved desert. I mold the clay and I love the earth and shape it into stories they do not want me to tell: the ones of hope. The ones of healing. The ones that remind us of the moon's power and our own capacity for abundance and possibility.
And I will take these dreams and I will swallow them. And I will take these dreams and I will return them to the earth. And I will take these dreams and I will offer them up to the sky. And I will make my home in them. Let them burst like rain-soaked seeds fattened by my fertility and the honeyed sweetness of joy.
Let us feast up these fruits.
Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational collection of musings touching on life’s simple pleasures, everyday enchantments, and delectable recipes that will guarantee to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe here.