I am quite accustomed to an event version of postpartum depression. I would notice it after annual meetings, board retreats, drum festivals, family vacations, career days, golf outings … and the Mabon weekend retreats that nourished my soul enough that I could make it through the descent into dark. But this was the first time an event I invested this much love and time, care and money was cancelled by the venue. The day before.  

I sat in the hammock chair with my grief then journaled until I could laugh at some absurdities, and turned to some helpful wisdom. I was reminded this wasn’t being done to poor ol’ me, but rather for my highest good and greatest joy. So I will be on the lookout when I wake up. When one door closes …

Oh, and my other less-than-joyful news was the cost to pick up Karma: $4,388.85. 

When it stops raining, maybe I can find some place with a beautiful view to boondock for two nights.

(The picture is my bed as I am packing my last bag, having sorted through drawers and boxes, and getting two deliveries.)