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Does it? Everything I have here, I imagined having. This studio. This cave. This sacred space that I get to call home. These objects all around me. These books. Even these odds-and-ends in my computer. All of these things were once only imagined.

An image in my mind’s eye. Or a thought in someone’s else’s consciousness. We are all made up of so much wonder. Desire. Creativity. This is true.

All of the things that happened, happened to get me to this current moment.

This space where I am conscious of everything around me. Floating. Existing. Occupying space. Being.

I imagined a life with T but I did not want that strong enough. I imagined a life with J, traveling somewhere I’ve never been before. This one-way/far-away wanting, as I tried to explain to Sim when he shared something about imaginations and visions, seems to call upon a magic veiled with heaviness and darkness.

So instead of quietly imagining all these lives with others. Here’s my focus: here and now, and with myself. I don’t mean that in any selfish or disconnected and isolated way. I mean that in an all encompassing, all-consuming loving way that I have not ever granted or given or desired for myself.

The imagination is: My solid, goddess self, sitting peacefully and all these threads of connections to others, to people, places and beings—energized with and by love, propelling me forward. Slowly, unfolding with care.