I've been bringing my compass on walks. I mostly walked East. I am trying to understand the directions. Like Chicago, East is the shoreline. So often I walked out of my front door and headed East to the water. I met a dog in the elevator and followed its owner to Kildevalds Park. Toddlers were earnestly feeding the ducks.
I discovered a place where the city disappeared. It was dark and all trees, and almost everything not trees was out of sight. The spirits of the land are everywhere, but I thought that this might be a particularly juicy spot to get in touch with Nordic Faeries.
I’m introducing myself and my body to this earth. I’m trying to feel my body on these streets, near these lakes, on these paths. I can’t imagine planning or doing anything without saying a hundred different ways, thank you thank you thank you for welcoming me here.
It’s my hope that the way this offering feels to this land is the way that a stranger’s hand felt on my body on the dance floor at 4am—just the gentlest stroke on my back, confident and tender and like pure unanticipated love.