I'm currently facing an orange Equinox moon reflected on the water...fall is here! Can you believe it? I'm mentally preparing for what I can only assume is going to be six months of hyper self exploration and loneliness. I'm hoping to attend some parties this winter, but that involves human interaction and I'm a bit on the fence as far as that's concerned.

 Whenever I go dancing I don't remember a single face I've encountered that night, more content to get lost in a trance on the dance floor. But dancing is always a positive experience, that only involves one human. Me. I transform into an agile, feline nymph and get lost in the thumpa-thumpa craziness of the bass crashing against my skin, often giving me goosebumps. It's no longer about the men and women responding to the display, I now see that for what it is, a mere distraction from the true experience which is getting lost in one's physicality and allowing mindless movement and motion to take over, and what that really is...I'm not sure yet.

The only tango partner you need is yourself. Selfishness is the key. That's one of the lessons I've learned. Be selfish, because everyone around you is. And love, because anger is a motivator, but not a sustainable driving force. Love is. The lion's roar surging from my throat has been my defender, and the rage boiling under my skin has often given me the much needed boost out of periods of self pity and lack of power. But love ...or at least the discovery of it is what has engendered this journey deep in the Slocan Valley, full of crystals and precious metal deposits, the clearest waters and the freshest air...and oh how much I've learned of the force that has given me the strength to battle through life!

My love is not an enabler, my love is not a martyr and it's kind of selective. My love does not squander itself on dishonest folk, my love does not cater to moral laziness. My love dares to ask to be matched, my love knows its worth. And my love has an epic case of the Narcissus as of now, because it will not, it will never again surrender itself to anything less than itself.

I guess the grown up, progressive attitude would be to find beauty in any situation I'm in  and to remain grateful and aware of the abundance in my life. I have a beautiful, acrobatic daughter who grows more independent and fiery each day, I am free to live my life as I wish, I live in a place of abundance. I am grateful for those wonderful new aspects of my life.

But I'm also aware of the sorrow I still carry, which is funny, now that I think about it, he wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth it. My daughter's the only valuable endeavor that stands out of these past three miserable years, the rest was just a waste. And that makes me so angry. I dream about beating all the people that have antagonized me but that also seems like a waste. And in those dreams, the sorrow makes the walls of my somnambulous theater quake and I anger at the thoughtlessness of it all. And I wake up to this new reality, of living in Nelson, becoming aware of all the possibilities ahead of me, realising how truly fortunate I am to be free of him and anything that pertains to him. 

She calls out for him still. She tells me 'Daddy bye-bye' and I remind her that I'm her father. She smiles and talks about Mickey Mouse. Kids are resilient. And her only memories of him are of him walking out the door without saying goodbye.

However, every short, stocky, receding hair-lined blond is him. I'm angered by the look in her eyes when I tell her she's mistaken. I'm working on trying to get her to call him by his true title, 'Sperm Donor'. I hope she doesn't idolize him as the years go by, and perhaps if I'm mad enough to enter into another relationship someone else will fill his role. I'm hoping to erase any possibilities of his selfishness permeating our existence anymore. It's not my job to cater to his whim. It's not her job to entertain his fleeting, egoistic forays into 'considering fatherhood'. However, I'm confident he's truly, finally out of our life, for good.

I'm tired and I wonder what awaits me in Winlaw. Revelation or further isolation.

It's not that I don't appreciate human contact, in fact it seems like I crave it at time, but really, I'm just lost in my own experience these days. And socializing seems like a chore, though I welcome more friends. My head hurts mostly, trying to understand the motions...keep up with conversations cues, dealing with drama. My shoulders, neck, back cramp and spasm. I rarely go into town, most of my days are spent dancing under the sun or just busying Lilo on our lonely mountain residence. Singlehandedly taking care of Lilo and babysitting my friends' children takes its toll, and I'm aching for adult contact, but really more on an intimate level. I want all the frills and thrills of a relationship without...the man. So for now, I'm growing content with celibacy.

I'm also pretty alright with the garden phasing out of my life. It's fed my daughter and I well. Zucchini and eggplants are finally pushing out! And I've been relishing the steady supply of basil, thyme, parsley, onion, tomato, oregano, cayenne, green and red peppers, rosemary and earthwalker sunflowers! The landlord has given me permission to maintain the garden until the growing's done, which would be soon, given how cold it is at our altitude. Lilo and I collected delicious crab apples in the rain last week. The neighbors have gifted us with so many veggies and fruits! My pockets are empty but our refrigerator is full. And for that I am more than thankful.

I'm thankful for the fact that my child will grow wild, where she shines as bright as the sun. Three in three weeks and she's doing flips of the bed onto the floor. She's hiking up mountains on her momma's back. She roars at bears fearlessly. She loves big dogs. She's a muscular, tall girl for her age. Her language skills are getting spectacular. She wants to ride horses. We were over at a neighbor's house a few days back and I got to gaze adoringly at Miss Kitty, a gorgeous beast with a mane that shined burgundy with hints of purple in the sun, muscles rippling under her skin as she pranced about. I saw myself sitting on her strong back, fingers buried in that hair...

My daughter will grow up close to the land and I pray she learns to value this life more than the lie we've suffered. She is the luckiest of all.

In the next few days I'm stocking up on firewood and getting ready for full media silence. No phone service in the valley and 'my computer's broken' equals six months of meditation, grounding myself and diving back into the realms of the imagination...Just me, my daughter, in a yurt. Hiking throughout the fall, running along the river bank with a bow and arrow, practicing my marksmanship, or my accordion, knitting and sewing in the dead of winter, worming through library books, hermiting just to keep the yurt heated.

Conversing with spirits and opening my heart to the Valley's song...