Poppy Namaskar

Swimming in California flowers. These are fried egg poppies, living sunny side up. Each one a masterwork from the love that made it all. Jubilation in the garden, wandering with J, talking life and love and family. Swimming in insane sensory bounty: velvety and waxy and petaled and spiked, feathery wandering grounded and dense. We stroke white sage and rosemary and then smell our hands, walk a little further and bury our noses in the roses. He has glitter hairs now! We sit a spell under the California oaks and time stops as he talks. He's getting wiser, more himself every day. He's choosing life, and that choice hasn't always been easy for him. Active agent in cocreation. Like this garden, it's inborn perfection and the cultivated human assist, the agency.

Lately, I've been thinking that it's not the chosen ones, it's the choosing ones.

People choosing life, after loss, after setback, after diagnosis, after system collapse. Loving anyway. Loving again. It's not easy sometimes, but it's much easier with tribe.

Friends help friends choose life. They say come together and sing with me. Point to the beauty. Want some tea? A kiss on the face? A slap on the ass? How can I help? Have some soup.

Walk with me in the garden, sunny, side up.

@jarrett_sleeper xoxo

@descansogardens