An excerpt from my non-electronic journal

Everything was gray in the forest today. Aftermath of the flood. Thin layers of dry mud coat all the underbrush. A stiff press-and-drag on the foliage reveals the true green hue beneath. The air is haunted. quiet. gray. Not the usual load of trash - but lots of glass. There is always lots of glass. Stuck in the mud-the thick mud that still coats the forest floor. We wondered how the animals did in the rising waters. The squirrels probably took cover in the trees. The birds and chipmunks too. But the deer, what happened to the deer? they are still there - we saw several-but did they escape the waters or did they wallow in them the whole time - clenching their jaws to fight off the cold. Perhaps the deer too were coated in grey, dry mud but have since rinsed themselves in the shrinking river. The forest looks different every time we go.

I've been having a lot of personal conversations lately. Deep in the sense of digging deep into my own thoughts and feelings and sharing them - not necessarily deep intellectually. Or deep in the sense that I talked comfortably about things I usually never mention or skirt around.

It's been good, though. Low key, reflective, slightly vulnerable, yet not scary vulnerable because I was always around people I loved and trusted. They were never big-deal-profound-life-transforming talks. Just pillow chat and the like.

..............

as I was writing this my roommate came up behind me and started rubbing my back and chatting again - that's love. talking and healing touch.