It’s My Birthday. Here’s What I Want.

Rachel, a middle aged woman of medium build, wearing yellow tshirt and holding a rectangle large sign that says YOU ARE LOVED in block letters

It’s My Birthday. Here’s What I Want!

I want choruses of freedom songs to birth the emerging revolution.

I want the stardust from millions of dying planets to wake up in fresh babies arriving on Earth.

I want to be a death doula for greed, misogyny, racism and scarcity, weaving spells to transform and shatter this shit into smithereens of joy.

I want to midwife my rewilding, reclaim my wild nature and overall funky place in the mycelial network.

I want to remain curious about Jesus, his nervous system responses and the microbial funk that accompanied him to the highest state of consciousness.

I want women to be safe everywhere.

I want people who always feel safe to pay attention to people who don’t feel safe and adjust their behavior accordingly.

I want liberation for Palestine, the Sudan, the Congo, Iran, for places and spaces unknown to me where there is violence, oppression and cultural erasure.

I want to thank my Irish ancestors for the gift of longing and yearning.

I want to make more music in community.

I want to gather, nap, share snacks, stories, and play, -in other words. I want my life to be pre-school.

I want to read books, lots and lots of books! Recite poetry and cry over beauty.

I want so much, so, so much and more.

This is good for 58 years.

Bring it in with me.

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