take your time

it’s perfect

no pressure to know where to go

it’s inevitable, you’ll make it

lost is the magic of being found

careful steps like walk on water, not like eggshell

deep belly breaths like air wants to fill, to feed this body who wants to feel this delicious motion

the rhythm of this season could be a light jog, a sprint, a frolic, a wander, a shuffle, a reject excuse me redirect, a sultry flirt with a twirly skirt and swirly waist laced in beads infinity, it will be a conversation between me and the rhythm section

the wind and my wings

the bow and the string

i listen and guide

we could go anywhere

we could go anywhere

and always arrive

the worst thing you could do is stop moving, refuse to be paralyzed by not knowing how you’ll get there or where there even is, you are exactly where you should be, and there is so much music in where you are, find the groove of the season, don’t beat it, don’t lag too far behind, fall into it’s embrace and let the destination be undefined for you have already arrived…

take your time

it’s perfect

no pressure to know where to go

it’s inevitable, you’ll make it

lost is the magic of being found

lost is the art of finding yourself