One of my greatest joys is writing. Whether it's pen to paper, which may sound archaic, or fingers to keyboard, I love writing. When I'm writing for my blog or for a Storycatcher's submission, I can edit, and edit, and edit some more before I find my scribing worthy of posting or submitting. This can be a torturous process.
I'm a perfectionist by nature, although generally not one who reworks and tweaks my writing to the point where I miss a deadline or throw up my hands and say, "Fuck this. It's never going to be good enough." My perfectionism isn't paralyzing. It's more self-critical than anything. When I click "Publish" or "Send" I re-read what I've written and that's when the chorus of inner critics break into song in a minor key. They are very loud and very convincing.
I'm trying to find a writing/storytelling/poetry group in Green Bay. So far I haven't been very successful. I found the storytelling group Storycatcher's based in Appleton through the website meetup.com. Earlier this evening I tried to find something similar in Green Bay with no success. If anyone reading this is aware of such a group, please message me via Facebook.
We moved to Green Bay on Labor Day Weekend 2019 for my job. I have a cousin and her family that live in Green Bay, plus an aunt and uncle, two second cousins, one of whom died in the fall of 2021. I performed the smudging at her funeral ceremony which is a sacred honor that goes back multiple generations on the maternal side of our family, Native Americans of the Menominee Tribe. I've been told that our tribe's spirit animal is a bear which represents healing and helping others. The irony of my cousin being a nurse and me being a therapist is not lost on me. It's not really ironic, it's who we were meant to be, predetermined before any of us were born. That comforts me because I explored many different careers and jobs before it became clear to me that I needed to go to graduate school so I could be a counselor, a spiritual healer of sorts.
On the day of her passing, gathered family saw an eagle flying independent and free in the afternoon sky. Perhaps this was her spirit animal, free from illness, treatment and pain letting her family know she too was finally free from physical suffering. Years ago at a spiritual retreat I became aware that my spirit animal was a female eagle, powerful, independent, free, yet nurturing and loving to her young. When the day comes that I pass, I hope someone close to me sees that eagle soaring free, released from the human bonds of pain, hurt and suffering. Isn't that what we all hope for at our end? I think we do.
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