I DO LOVE TO COMMUNICATE (& SIMPLIFY!)

Welcome to the grab bag


Use the search bar or scroll down to read my unpacking of current politics, cyclical living, and #liesthepatriarchytoldme.

 
 
…on seasons
Annika Buckle Annika Buckle

…on seasons

In winter, it looks like everything is dead. (It feels like it too sometimes!) BUT! There is so much work going on under ground. Trees are pulling in energy from their branches to store up in their roots. If plants don't get the opportunity to rest and chill (literally), they don't store up enough energy to produce healthy happy blooms. If plants were actively growing in the cold months, the water within the plant structure could freeze, causing massive damage to these structures. What happens if we farm a field constantly, if it never get time to sit fallow? The soil depletes and eventually it won’t grow things – but that doesn’t happen overnight. It happens slowly, season by season producing a little less, or lower quality crops. As humans that might show up like feeling exhausted, burnt out, overwhelmed all the time.

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…free falling
Annika Buckle Annika Buckle

…free falling

I’m 8, and I’m sitting in the living room of my childhood home. My dad has the system at full volume, and he’s singing along while he tinkers with the fireplace. It might be my only memory of him and the fireplace that doesn’t involve him singing Jim Morrison; my dad was the ultimate dad and couldn’t resist singing “come on baby light my fire”, while lighting an actual fire.

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On not being the perfect mom…
Annika Buckle Annika Buckle

On not being the perfect mom…

The rain beading on the kitchen window in perfectly round droplets, until they become so full that they run the banks, overflow from input – there’s just too much water for one little drop to hold. It runs down the window, release and relief, until it stops.

I realize I have been standing at the sink, wet hands suspended over the basin, for longer than I think. How do I find the balance to be here, really here, right now?

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…on things unsaid.
Annika Buckle Annika Buckle

…on things unsaid.

Sitting on that funny chair in your tiny kitchen that had the stairs on it. The way your fresh butter tarts, right out of the oven, just melted on my tongue. Rows and rows of dusty canning in the porch. The smell of picking a fresh tomato. That little dish of stale hard candies that I ate from non-stop, even though they stuck to my teeth and weren’t even particularly good. Tea, every day at 4pm, and always on the good china.

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On ritual and tradition…
Annika Buckle Annika Buckle

On ritual and tradition…

Ritual - the deep remembrance, and a way to integrate my family? These are some of the unexpected gifts of 2020.

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