When me and my sister-cousin @megan.paris.142 scattered Grandma’s ashes in Gualala in May, 2017 it was the first time I’d been back in half my life. // // It helps to go back. // During that trip I sensed into things I cannot yet articulate. I went to the river to scatter the rest of her ashes alone. While there, I felt a sense of that I’ve never felt before or since. The belonging was not good or bad. It did not mean anything I could make sense of (should I move here, I wondered. No). // // Looking back, the best I can describe it is a bodily sense that my bones do not belong to me. And that, when I’m done with them, they go back to the river. // I put a stone in my pocket before I left that place. // During that same trip, I visited a park I went to every summer to take classes with @gualalaarts. The last summer I did that, there was a teacher mixup and I kind of took over the drama class. It was the first and only drama class I took. I was 13 years old. Because I’m a slow learner, I had not yet figured out that I was supposed to be detached and pretty and entirely focused on my appearance. I took charge and decided to mount a musical. I starred in it too, no one else was willing. // It was PROFOUNDLY terrible. I am proud of how terrible it was and want to tell you all about it. // Instead, I will tell you that it took place on a stage that redwoods grew through. And that on my trip back to this stage I felt the companionship of these redwoods like enormous creative collaborators. I knew this was how I was meant to feel in community. // // So I put some needles in my pocket. And I tinctured them. With the river stone. // I’m not yet ready for this medicine. But at least now it is ready for me.