The sweat lodge was beautiful- a Native American tradition where and entire community huddles shoulder to shoulder in a 5 foot high pitch black tent and sweats in the heat of lava rock. I was trapped as far away from the opening as I could possibly be but I learned to feel power in that. Escape wasn’t an option so I just had to suck it up- and then remember to blow it out. That shit is hot and claustrophobic as hell. The chief compared it to the womb. But yeah, it was definitely more like hell. A beautiful calamity.
Today I worked housekeeping. I stripped rooms which means I set the pace, exhausting. I thought a lot about my love. I used to worry that my love was as fleeting as all of my other interests or endeavors. This thing with Griffin has proven otherwise. I’m realizing that it might never go away but I’m becoming OK with that. I have more than enough love.