on the turning away…

picture of a forest with dappled light

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, everything I’m about to tell you is true.


This morning I woke up with Pink Floyd lyrics running through my mind…
“No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
It’s not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there’ll be
No more turning away?”
On The Turning Away, Pink Floyd

I’d like to share something deeply personal with y’all today, and it’s not something that is my usual content – or that’s been my usual content. Over the years my words have been placed into the greater internet-verse with a desire to be understood and to feel “real.” This isn’t some kind of admission to boost my stats, or gather followers, it’s just where my life is right now. So bear with me as I ramble a bit…

At some point in my life I gathered quite a bit of anger into my being, and it decided to stay around a lot longer than anyone should have to endure. While I applied all the teachings, the mystical rituals, and tear-filled prayers to what was stirring within…nothing seemed to fix the tumultuous feelings going on within my system. Heck, I even tried the whole path of taking a fearless moral inventory while giving forgiveness to things that were beyond my control. Nothing was working, and believe me when I tell you that I literally tried everything from hugging crystals to baring my soul in therapy. My language would tell others everything was okay, but my soul was flailing about hoping to find some calm in the storm. In short, it was not a great time to be a denizen of my mind as all my thoughts put me in some kind of miasma of wonkiness. That is, until I just gave into the anger…

The first step was just being still and quiet, or being in the mode of silent running (as I’ve mentioned before). It is not a fun place to dwell, as all the insecurities come along with you, whispering complicated lies into your ears about all the things that you are doing wrong…or that you have done wrong. And friend, I’ve made so many mistakes in my life that came from a place of wanting to fit in, or hoping to not be the weirdo, or whatever force of nature was on the schedule for that day. In this time of contemplation it became pretty apparent that the common denominator in all the mishaps of my life was my self.

Now this isn’t me saying, “Oh, the people that hurt me was my fault,” nor is it a way to be absolved of my actions when my emotions ran wild – but more like, “oh……I see now…..there’s some healing to be done.”

C.S. Lewis says: “I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief,” and I’ve never seen a more truth statement in my life. Grief does very funny things to the human system, putting us into places that we never expected. We lash out, we scream, we dance around things that are important, and very often we overlook the boundaries we have in order to feel less alone. Also, we make decisions that look good on paper, or feel “right” when we try something new, but until the grief/anger nexus is resolved…we stay stuck in a boot loop of emotional turmoil.

Last year (2025), I had a serious reckoning in my life that caused me to engage in the aforementioned silent running. At the time it felt like the world was going to end, but after a few weeks it was easy to see that the Universe, or whoever was on the line that day, was absolutely worn out with me asking for someone else to fix my internal circuitry. Not only did I get eleventy billion signier signs, it was becoming very apparent that the answers needed were already within…and if I made the choice to keep overlooking them…things were going to stay the way they were. The only way out was to sit with each feeling, each sadness, and each hurt, asking them all what it was they’ve been trying to tell me all these years.

It would take a very long time to unpack all those ponderings here, and honestly it does none of us any good to put them under a public microscope, so I’m gonna do a fun bullet point list for y’all:

  • love everyone and tell the truth
  • if a box isn’t for you, don’t try to fit into it
  • “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” (huge thanks to Mary Oliver for this one)
  • always trust your intuition
  • the anger and grief you feel is from avoiding the path you seek

Avoiding the path I seek you say, dear inner voice – whatever could you mean? Oh…you mean that a lot of the chaos in my life came from trying too hard to fit into places that were not for me due to issues from my childhood that I carried around like tokens of a fever dream…and that hiding from that which makes me wonderful (and often seen as “weird”) is also my superpower?

As I was mulling all this over in the metaphorical cave, embracing the raw power that comes from having a dark night of the soul, off in the distance there was this light. It compelled me by forces unknown to get closer, and with each step there were pieces of myself that I’d left in the control/power of others – or honestly just abandoned because there were external (meaning not things of my own doing) issues that shattered me while I was too busy trying to survive. Each time I looked closer a thought came into my head – what if I just loved these parts? And not in a bypassing way, or not taking personal accountability, but truly and deeply cared for each aspect that was left along my path.


Yesterday I returned to something that seemed so out of reach that I gave up trying. Not because it was beyond my grasp, but due to the overwhelming grief (and fear) of what others would think – or how I would be perceived. As I talk about it in the podcast (link below), sometimes you just have to be as real as you can be, even if it means starting over again for the 300th time. People are going to think what they want about you no matter what you do, and they will judge/condemn/dislike you because of their own thoughts/feelings. If the pain of not being who you are causes you to overlook your boundaries, sit at tables that aren’t yours, or stop trying to make your dreams come true…you might want to take some time to talk with those parts of you that need some love. Be still and quiet until you feel secure enough to wear stripes with plaid, or to share your creative work…or even to write about your inner world online.

And to help you along the way, might I just say a few words…

You are seen. You are loved. You are a beautiful child of the Universe, connected to everything around you. You matter. You are amazing.


Here is the link to the official (re)opening day podcast for Mom’s Strange Magic. Also, I’ll be moving all the Mom’s Strange Magic content to my Patreon page. Most of the content there will be free, and you can access it by clicking this link. Now, could I put all of this in one place – sure. Is that going to work for me personally – no. This space is my personal walk in the world where I’ll be sharing my creativity, my brain noodles, and whatever else shows up. As I’ve mentioned already, but will say again, WP does have a subscription option, which is pretty much how it is these days, but it works better for me to go through Ko-fi as I will also be selling off some of my artwork soon, and while it will be updated here it is important to keep my organization skills in a place where they are happiest. If you plan on following me, or any of my work, you can also just click that follow/subscribe button that WP provides, as I’ll be sharing all the things here as well.

With that, I’m off to feed the birds, tend to my chores, and hope that the typo faeries have been appeased enough to make this post not too full of mistakes. Plus, they also prove that AI didn’t help me write this. (LOL)

Much love to all y’all,
KEU

New Moon who this?

Image of the new moon for February 17th, 2026.

First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, everything I’m about to tell you is true.

Happy Mardi Gras, Shrove Tuesday, Lunar New Year, Annular Solar Eclipse, and the start of Ramadan. Who knew that the Moon could be such a fun way to celebrate being human?

Today is also the eve of bring Mom’s Strange Magic back to the public. If you wanna see what that’s all about, just click the friendly link here. Now you might be wondering what I’m going to do with this space, or how this site will move forward into the future. It’s a fair question given the fact my time online has been quite chaotic over the past – what…like 4 years? Well guess no more, as I’m about to give you some insights.

Mom’s Strange Magic is something that came about after my dear sweet partner, aka Mr. The Mister, told another family member that the work I do is…you guess it, “Just mom’s strange magic.” The name stuck, but honestly my life wasn’t in the place to really get things going, but nevertheless I tossed my wacky wall walker of a life to the ceiling and hoped it would stick.

It didn’t. But that’s okay.

While chatting with one of the adult kids (which feels so very odd to say because in my eyes they are always gonna be wee babes) about all that we’ve experienced as a family, I told them that there are some days where it would be nice to go back and do things differently. In this calm voice they said, “Well, things are the best they’ve ever been, so I don’t think we should change anything.”

Y’all…

I mean, just y’all…that is some deep wisdom right there – especially from a human in their 20s. While they are absolutely correct in that sentiment, I wasn’t always able to see my life from that perspective. For longer than anyone should have to endure, some of my inner dialogue would start off with, “Well, you did that wrong…” that is, until I flipped it around to, “Well, you did your best at the time, so move forward with a little more knowledge instead of worry.”

Getting to this point wasn’t easy, and it came with baggage that wasn’t mine to carry. At the core was this little dab of people pleasing mixed with some feelings of insecurity and a dash of being lost. In order to find my way back it took a lot of work on my boundaries, engaging in a bit of “silent running,” aka being very still and very quiet, calling all the broken pieces of self back “home,” and a lot of support from my wee little tribe of folks whose core is our little homestead. There was also a lot of saying the word no, standing up for myself, and no longer feeding energy to people/places/things that were never going to reciprocate.

Oh, and the deepest, widest, and most intense dark night of the soul…with months little earthquakes as everything shifted back into place. Maybe more like filling the cracks of self in with some alchemical gold.


This shift in my life is a little scary, and my “voice” feels a little shaky while writing. For me this is a good sign, as all the other times I let myself be shoved into boxes that weren’t for me, I felt like it was the right place to be. Sort of like that whole “Oh, if this is how people want me to be, then this means people will support my time here.” There’s a lot of stuff to unpack with all of that, which might come out here…or not. It just depends on what words want to flow through my fingers when I sit in front of the empty space in the editor.

Before I sign off to start the day, I want to explain why Mom’s Strange Magic is hosted on Patreon. First, dear sweet Mr. The Mister has reached the age (and beyond) where he can retire, and continues to work to help the family stay grounded in resources. It was our “plan” (used loosely as the Universe had its own plans) for me to be back to my work 2 years ago. But there was COVID, unexpected illnesses, life shifts, and more – which is, as my kiddo said, exactly as it was supposed to be. While Patreon is a pay-to-read site, most of the content there will be free – not all, but most. Also, I’m not tossing all my energy out into the internet, and am closing down other sites such as Bluesky, Substack, Medium et al. I will be on YouTube and Meta platforms, as well as this space on WordPress. If folks want to find me, they will, and that means I won’t have to keep giving my time away.

Now…I know that WP has a whole subscribe thing here, but honestly I’ve got to stick with what works best for me. With that….if you enjoy what I do, consider supporting me on Ko-fi.

And not it’s time to finish some chores, work on some projects, and prepare for tomorrow’s grand re-opening of Mom’s Strange Magic!

Much love,
KEU

Friday the 13th – a soft launch

First of all, I am a delight.
Second, everything I’m about to tell you is true.
Third, the podcast is back – with more coming soon.

To access the first podcast, click the link below.

Mom’s Strange Magic – The Podcast (S1:E1)

See y’all next week…I’m off to enjoy a quiet weekend with the family.

Much love,
KEU

they were called deplorable

photo of a field with a spiral mown into the grass with the text, "we tried to tell you..."

First of all, I am a delight.
Second, everything I’m about to tell you is true.
Third, I contain multitudes…

“I am not blind to the shortcomings of our own people. I am not unaware that leaders betray, and sell out, and play false. But this knowledge does not outweigh the fact that my class, the working class, is exploited, driven, fought back with the weapon of starvation, with guns and with venal courts whenever they strike for conditions more human, more civilized for their children, and for their children’s children.” ~ Mother Jones

When you experience the life of the rural poor, there are many things that stick with you. Listing them all would take up more space and time than I have this morning, so I’ll do my best to condense them to a few main thoughts.

Grab a cup of whatever you enjoy, get comfy, and take a moment to ponder that not everything is about you.

We tried to tell you.
Truly, a lot of folks spoke about what they were seeing around them – only to be called kooky, weird, or placed into the box of “theory” believers.

When I was a young person my family had a small farm where we did our best to live as self-sustaining as possible. While both sides of my ancestry had ties to the land – well, one side wasn’t known until my 20s, which is a story for another day – my parents were not really set up for that lifestyle.

You see taking care of livestock, making sure critters didn’t eat your garden, and protecting your well is a full time job. It requires long days, hard work, and a lot of prayers. Along with that it means understanding your community and the beliefs of the people around you. Sadly, that is something that my parents never quite figure out.

Across from our home was a large field where a local farmer grew crops for the government. Out amongst the even rows were these signs that had numbers on them, with a logo from the company that provided the seeds and chemicals to grow them. The goal was high yields and capital dependent growth. Or, in more clear terms, none of it belonged to those who pushed the plows.

Throughout the year planes would spray all sorts of things to help growth and minimize pests. For the kids in the area it was a time to run out into the mists like we were getting baptized by the USDA itself. Once I heard the sound of those engines I would grab my flip flops and run into the torrent of wild smelling liquid like God itself was personally blessing me with a bountiful life.

Some of the farmers in the area noticed issue with their own gardens, as well as with their livestock. Then came the weird cough, skin growths, and funny tasting water. When they approached the local USDA office, they were told that all of it was absolutely safe, and not to worry. The thing is, as we know now, none of it was safe.

Any of the folks that persisted in getting answers were labelled as “theorists,” and that not trusting those in charge was “dangerous.” These were the very same people that were voted into offices that cared little about those they were representing. Then, after markets were flooded, crops failed, and a whole host of events that the old farmers could see coming, large corporations swooped in to buy family farms for pennies on the dollar.

“The crops we grew last summer weren’t enough to pay the loans
Couldn’t buy the seed to plant this spring and the farmers bank foreclosed
Called my old friend schepman up to auction off the land
He said john its just my job and I hope you understand
Hey calling it your job ol hoss sure dont make it right
But if you want me to Ill say a prayer for your soul tonight
And grandmas on the front porch swing with a
Bible in her hand Sometimes I hear her singing take me to the promised land
When you take away a mans dignity he cant work his fields and cows”

John Mellencamp

Basket of “deplorables”
Y’all remember when this was stated out in the wild? Now you might want to see me as someone who is on one particular side or another, but please know that my heart sits firmly in that lovely passage seen in all the holy books about how one cannot serve two masters – as well as knowing that we are called (again this is true of all the world’s faith systems) to love others with all our heart. I mean in one book it says that all the other “laws” hang on loving the Divine and your neighbor in the same way.

But here’s the thing…

While that word was used for a specific group of folks, a lot of others heard it, too, and didn’t like how it made them feel. You see these people gave a lot of trust to those elected to speak for them, and did what they could to do the right thing. This doesn’t mean they were perfect, or were always kind, but more like these were the folks that mined the coal, grew the high yield crops, and keep the factories open – all while watching the land around them be eaten up by corporations that “promised riches beyond the dreams of avarice,” and being given pills to dull the soul.

While the Appalachian regions were paraded around like show ponies on national television, this was happening on other parts of the country (and world) as well. Do a little searching on things like the dust bowl days, or the Great Depression – that will give you a clue about life for the poor.

Or maybe watch all the parodies of those living a simple life – you know like when the Beverly Hillbillies (which is a word that was often used for immigrants coming from rural areas in other countries) struck gold, or when the whole “hee haw gang” played mountain music for the gentry.

Better yet, make a smear campaign about how those living in these areas were “uneducated,” or didn’t care about others, turning them into “those people.” Now the Ancestors tried to tell us about these things, especially those that didn’t look just like us, or come from the same family tree.

Not so long ago getting a sun tan meant you were poor, uneducated, and didn’t belong in polite society. Now people put themselves into casket like tubes to give an appearance of money and time to just lay around gathering up vitamin D.

But you know…when the loudest voice is screaming at us, we often forget that those doing it are either the most envious…or have the most to hide.


As some of you know, my life has been full of some pretty interesting moments – which I’ve tried very hard to put into the baskets of the Greek Chorus in hopes that they would grant me passage to the places that were never for me. At this point I’ve lost count of all the times that I’ve picked something up, only to toss it across the Universe. Declarations were made, and words were said – then I got scared. Not that, “Oh look at me, I’m being fickle” kind of fear, but the soul-stretching, mind-bending, and life-changing kind of fear.

Into this mix is that my life still had me in a bind that was hard to explain without creating more chaos in my own brain. I know that sounds enigmatic and a bit quirky, or whatever comes to your mind – but the truth is that it is difficult to put out fires when people keep throwing matches at you because you lacked the full knowing of good boundaries.

This is also me taking some huge personal responsibility for my wishy-washy nature during the past few years. I just kept doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results while also thinking that the folks I asked to listen to me were actually hearing what I said. Kind of gives a whole new meaning to when Jesus said, “Let those that have ears hear…”

I’ve spent a goodly time in my version of silent running (a naval term) laying low to avoid detection. This has given me quite a bit of time to fully look at the parts of myself that needed fixing, to call my power back, and to make sure no lose strings would leave me walking around with nothing on…

With that, I’m off to work on some creative projects.

Until next time – much love to all y’all,
KEU

* please note that my technology is home to myriad typo faeries who often enjoy leaving their mark upon my work. While it might make you think I don’t care to look smart, educated or professional, it is really me honoring the beauty of the wabi sabi nature of these delicate and delightful creatures. Also, cats often walk across my keyboard, making sure that I stay humble at all times.