Dearest World, Welcome to Griefcity.

By late November of 2019 I thought we had settled into a new normal.  Life was becoming routine.  I generally knew what to expect.  I was undergoing personal transitions, but not of the variety that I felt compelled to share openly on the internet.  I felt settled.  Life felt good.  I saw a clear path ahead, and slowly began to take for granted the mundane patterns of life 3.0.

I got through the holidays just fine.  I managed the ups and downs of the darkest season, spent time with friends, met a new guy. For New Years, I participated in an intentional circle of connection and community while journaling and making medicine pouches tied up with sinew and crystals.  A sound healer bathed us in the resonance of metal singing bowls.  We toasted 2020 with kombucha,  a group of strong women in a cedar hot-tub on a snowy hillside under the open sky.

I went into January with an open heart.  Fell in love with the man with piercing blue eyes and a peaceful, comforting presence.  Bought some new books.  Played around with watercolors on quiet nights.  Picked up my guitar a few times.  The snow began to melt as the daylight increased.  The scent of mud and maple began to waft through the air.  I allowed the calm to carry forward, after all, Spring was just ahead.

Then the world changed.

All of it.

The events of the past weeks have been unprecedented.  We could not have predicted the shifts we all have had to endure as Covid-19 threatens human life and wellbeing at alarmingly increasing rates.

Suddenly, I am back.  In May of 2017.  In a hospital on the East River, completely uncharted with my partner on a ventilator and nothing but unknowns for my future.

Except, instead of being alone, this time, we are all in this together.

It feels Sorrow Pie still has a purpose in my life, and I am back to it.  I hope what comes helps to carry us all through.