From may 7
View attachment 2192565
View attachment 2192567View attachment 2192568View attachment 2192569View attachment 2192571View attachment 2192572View attachment 2192573View attachment 2192574
Text;
Spring has sprung and for the first time in my whole life I’m looking around me- at new things growing, little blooms, baby animals shaking their baby animal butts. Maybe it’s because I’m turning thirty five (35!? What!? I feel 14 most days. I don’t usually brush my hair. And I am not immune to spending forty minutes looking in the mirror at emerging crows feet and the new droop of my breasts but that’s for another caption... long story short, I love it...) Maybe it’s because I’ve found myself in rural England with minimal cell phone reception and maximal farm life. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that forcing a daily practice of gratitude has actually shifted into a reality of gratitude. They say you can form habits. I never believed it. I was a bed creature with a naturally glass half empty attitude upon waking up and the sun upset my vampire eyes. Often, I led with my trauma and fear. But living through and past some dark days required a shift in perspective, and my appreciation of being right where I am when I’m there- doing what I love to do, with old collaborators and new love surrounding me- is so big it fills me even on cold nights on set and mornings where my arthritic bones ache and I’m homesick or in conflict or feeling like a scared imposter. Emotions come and go like weather, but the gratitude stays put like this Medieval architecture. To quote modern punk poet Brody Dalle, “It hit me/I got everything I need.” Always did.