The Cathedral on My Fortieth
That’s enough said for now, and on this day of midlife, my 40th birthday, here at the apogee of the thrown pebble arcing towards the water, is as good a time as any to make that known.
It’s really hard to overstate this moment for me, turning 40 years old here on the day my story “The Cathedral” becomes available as part of this Querencia Press anthology of women, queer, trans, and nonbinary artists and poets.
It’s been quite difficult to speak honestly with anyone and most everyone on what the last three years of my life have been and meant to me. So much of the travels of this time have been internal; so fast have been the insights and changes that I’ve been in a state of perpetual ungroundedness, dizzy with awe and fear and delight all at once.
I’ve tried to describe it so many times in so many forms, but only in the mad procrastinated dash a couple months ago to present this story at a Halloween reading did I find an allegory as the most honest form of describing where I’ve been and where I’m headed.
There’s so much that could be given as factual information, but only two things are true—steady and evolving truths—for me throughout this time in my life: that the ketamine therapy headspace is a cathedral of my mind, and that in that mind are two entities, Scott and Isobel.
That’s enough said for now, and on this day of midlife, my 40th birthday, here at the apogee of the thrown pebble arcing towards the water, is as good a time as any to make that known.