There are so many ways in and out of a life. So many ways you may remember and forget. 

 

I don't remember the the day I put my ring on. The ring that reminded me, like a sacred vow, to always come back to a devoted life. 

 

I do remember the day I threw it across the room. Middle of the night, tears streaming down my swollen wet face, betrayed and all faith lost. 

 

For a long time I stayed this way. The red thread dropped in the outskirts of the labyrinth, which is really a maze. Unwilling to journey to the centre to meet the monster child that lay within. For a long time I stayed this way. Lost and not moving.

 

There are so many ways to tell a story. Ariadne lands in Naxos, abandoned by Theseus, holding her face in her hands, wanting more than anything to throw herself into the stormy sea.

Sipping Greek mountain tea to remember the call of my soul. Still singing ancient songs. Still drumming the way a heart beats. I listen to reminders of grace and strength. Breathing again. 

 

I stand at the entrance of another temple. Older than old. Ring in my hand covered in sand. Offering beeswax, red smeared lips, and salt tears still flowing. 

 

A touch that cracks me open. A voice that sounds like my own:

 

 

There are so many ways to walk a path. Ariadne found, Dionysian ecstasy with a honeyed tongue and red threads spiralling in her veins. She dances with dolphins. A crown of stars. A mermaid's tail emerging.

 

On this full moon, as Venus begins her journey back from the underworld into the heavens, I greet you as I am. I have died and am being reborn. Over and over again, as is the oldest way.

 

May we greet each other as we are. Nothing more and nothing less. 

 

May we know each other in our deepest sorrows with forgiveness and understanding in our hearts.

 

May we dance from the depths into ecstasy at the beauty and fragility of this life.