I sought healing today. A place marked as a spiritual camp surrounded by commodities. It’s entrance, by sunflowers.

At the bookstore you can buy obscure stones labeled on ink jet printed paper that don’t do anything but make you pretend. Aura. Strength. Courage. I scoff and move on to the hand made leather journals. Whatever.

An hour passed. That was when I met my “spiritual counselor”.

She was round and short with long curly black hair that flowed as she escaped under laundry lines with ease. I buckled down under them with my 5’11 frame and tried to keep up with her as she led me through backyards and white dirt paths. Everyone here looks like a witch.

There’s a small white cottage at the bottom of a hill. Around back you find a tiny opening by a picnic table that’s covered with trash. The inside is small and dingy, everything smells old. A stuffed animal pug is next to me as I close my eyes and stop myself from laughing. The out dated cd player began to play meditative music.


She told me things she had no way of knowing. Promises of the future that made me feel insignificant and apart of something bigger all at once. It was strange. She knew me somehow. Specific details scribbled down on a piece of paper. I have it with me. 

She told me a stories about my childhood in detail; bicycle horns, pony tails, my Godfather. “You’ve already named your daughter”, she said. She writes princess on the piece of paper.

“Be selfish for once. People in your life are honored guests. They belong inside only if they serve you with positivity”.

Death Cab is playing now. The same song I’ve listened to as a sad teenager. It reminded me that this will end soon too. I love this song. 

One thought on “Commune”

  1. I don’t know why you keep deleting your comments. Immaturity doesn’t live here. Keep avoiding me. This is a space where you read what’s on in my mind because of your actions. How you’ve affected another human being. I love sharing it with you and it helps heal me but have respect for it at least.

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