Song to the Fe
This is a song to The Fe. With her soft round edges and magic light. Her crooked sidewalks and crooked lines. Her winding streets and meandering chimes. To the music that seems to live in the breeze. To the sweet suite of a casita bathed in dappled light. To the quiet spaces and patio time. For the wounded St. Francis blessing the Inn. For the numerous others perched and tucked into the nooks and crannies of walls and courtyards. For the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadeloupe and the pets and saints decked out on parade. To the soothing turquoise and spicy red chile. To the margaritas with a sunset view. To elegant sculptures dancing in the wind and the folky retablos, imperfectly tender.
This is a song to the beautiful women who dared to dream themselves awake. To the tears and laughter, the insights and discomforts. To the warmth of the sun and the spacious sky. To the inner listening and the River Writing. To the invitations to embody wholeness and experiment with a new name. To the treat of retreating and reclaiming some courage. To connecting with compassion and authentic kindness. To the ground and the elephant who are always present. To the edges that softened and the souls lit with magic.
Yes, this is my song of gratitude to a weekend of daring and dreaming and movement. To wholehearted connection and vulnerable strength. This is my song to The Glorious Fe.