When the Georgian New Year rolled up on us like hold up this is a stick up, Frank and I were in our jammies, sitting on the floor of our office with pens and notebooks in hand planning out our Spring releases, Year of the Pig ambitions, and budgeting goals as the sound of our neighbors’ extravagant firework show crashed through the blinds of our window.

To say the least, our 2018 was one helluva lovetrip…no surprise there. We learned so much about ourselves inside and out, but three things really stuck out.

1. We both were possessed by an insatiable addiction to eating out, and I can be a wee bit of an impulse shopper.
2. The best place to start looking for our keys to abundance is always right where we are.
3. When either of us commits to something, no matter how seemingly unlikely or impossible it may appear to be—magical shit happens. Eh, who said we were going to keep it PG this year?

Somewhere between power trip and power failure I exists—in a cold dark place full of warmth—or heat—I dance like water at my best—like ice at my depths. I still birth.

—9:16 post meridiem, November 25th 2018

♥

Here, I imagine—You feel more at home in my body than I do.

I find solace in watching myself trying to be a good mother—a perfect mother—I found honor in knowing that she still only exists adorned in glittering imperfections. I see her tries—all of her attempts that lead to half actions and whole actions have thus far transmuted into You—ten toes, ten fingers—arm, leg, leg, arm, head.

—10:19 ante meridiem, Masha’Allah, November 26th 2018

♥

I have learned to feed you—and still I am not yet half the mother I am to be—for I have only just begun too nourish your cries for my attention—your restless waves for my acknowledgment—your tossing and turning—your tides attempting to pull from my sea shores a distant touch.

—10:53 ante meridiem, Learning to Love Again

I did not fear the spirits—restless souls, entities and hellhounds—that roamed about our childhood home in my youth, or those that followed me into love. Yet, I feared the makings of my own restless spirit, my demons, my tribe’s maternal traumas, and many attachments—spiritual ones, mental ones, and physical ones. Those fears lead me to fear my greatest joy, one I had only spent countless moons and seasons wishing, praying and meditating upon—a chance at motherhood, a chance at carrying love in my womb and baring a child to crown—a chance many said I could and would never have. I feared my consort having to settle for a life with only me—as if that was not the first and only life he had set out to live when we first sat by those October train tracks sipping on Jamaican Me Happy. I had to give up my fears, my worries, my self-doubts, my addictions—all of my inhibitions. We had to throw away our futile man-made cares, let our freedom hang out, and look back to our stars, our planets, our moons, and our many aspects—those that had first charted our way—and fall back into us.

—♥Su Hena

2018 the Year of Manifest

Each year we each embark on is always a year or something…either you fill in the blank, or you don’t, eh. Truth is often we do not fill in the blank, and we end our year with little to show because we neglected to establish a clear vision of all that we desired to see come to fruition. How much we neglected our past year will reveal its no or low hanging fruit come the dawn of the new year—our current year. Let this be the year you move and maneuver in such a way that you blink once and 2019 slows down to roll out a red carpet embroidered in golds and lined with silvers for You.

♥

All that you do and neglect to do will matter, yet, not all that is done will transmute to matter, and still, nothing is ever truly wasted.

♥

Yours in Love Truly Always

…tell you, teach you, guide you, move you, force you.

You remember back in the day when parents would live off of the expressions “I can show you better than I can tell you,” “experience is the best teacher” or “a hard head makes a soft butt”? Truth be told, I know many parents, and many peers who still dance to the rhythm of each. I know I sure do! I can remember Maa saying “do your chores as they are assigned so they don’t pile up.” Well, we all know how that went after postponing them to play outside with friends, watch cartoons, eat a meal or two, twiddle fingers, or do anything and everything to keep from washing those dishes, cleaning your room, sweeping the floors and taking out the trash. By the time you finally got to the dishes that extra meal or so has turned into an extra meal or two per household member, and mother, father, grandma, auntie or other like guardian is staring you down with those “you better get that sh*t done” eyes. If your mom was anything like mine or my grandmas they were steady staring at you with a switch, fly swatter, or leather belt in hand—and you—pouting and moping because your favorite show is on now, bedtime is in an hour, and you can’t get on the phone to talk to your bestie until ALL of your chores are complete.