My superpower this week: Believing that everything that is mine returns to me. And finding out what that means. More on that tomorrow. In the meantime, what superpower do you wish for today? Let’s use what we know. And maybe we can add some new ones to the book of superpowers too. Welcome: playing, frolicking, [...]

Well, sadly to say, I have been near-Denver. Broomfield, Colorado. I do not recommend it. Except for the tumbleweeds. Which are really cool. And, for the record, I’m sure Denver is AWESOME and I will see actual-Denver someday, and we will like each other very much and kiss each other delightedly on the cheeks, and it will be fabulous.

Anyway. Lots happening. Roller derby championships were full of excitement and heartbreak. Our full-page ad was gorgeous. Getting to teach in Boulder was super fun.

And now I’m ready to come home. Really ready.

In the meantime, notes from the road.

And the rest of you — someday it will happen. We will get to drink tea together and play at the Playground, and it will be grand.

Until then, please know that you are appreciated and adored by me. Even if you’ve never commented. Even if you don’t ever plan to buy anything.

Even if you have no idea what I’m talking about half the time.

The fact that you read stuff here has added to this world of mine being special and sparkly. So thank you for helping me realize that support is a thing. It’s real.

Hello, door.

This is me and this is the door.

Me and my relationship to the door. Me and my relationship with myself as I am going through doors.

Me and the person I am becoming as a result of having experienced this particular passage through this particular door.

All of it.

What kind of presents and surprises?

Presents and surprises for future-me can be small or large.

They can be really obvious. Or things that might not even be noticed.

Maybe she’ll trip over them and then say ohhhhhhhhhhh, got it.

What did we decide the collective noun was for Heinzelmännchen? A Party? I’m going to go with Huddle!

A Huddle of Heinzelmännchen. Someone write that book, please.

Anyway, there’s a collective. Whose job is to care for me-who-is-coming! And I get to submit ideas and proposals because they need my help.

That way I get to participate but I don’t have to do all the work. I’m an adviser. Sneaky-sneaky!

A woem is a poem of woe! And grumbles.

This is something we invented at McGrumblebug’s Whine Bar (a forum board disguised as a pub) in my Kitchen Table program.

See: My weekend got eaten by bears!

And, as it happens, today’s post also falls in the category of Accidental Poem.

This is where I live.

This is my body.

It houses me.

And not just me-now but all of the versions and aspects of me. And the infinite internal worlds that I am a part of.

My body is the home of my creativity, my strength, my desire, my boundaries, my entire experience of being alive.

Back in the day, a sailor’s first voyage across the equator was considered a big deal.

It was a rite of passage. A ritual of crossing.

Everything was different after it happened.

Once you had crossed the line, you weren’t just a sailor anymore. You were a shellback. Someone who had been across.

You had presence in a way that you didn’t before. All voyages change you, but the crossing is a different kind of change.

And on Friday morning the perfect simple solution was there.

It was such a fabulous and typically shivanautical moment.

I woke up and knew exactly where everything needed to go.