Yesterday I walked Clyde down to the Coffee Garden. Late afternoon, sweatshirt weather, solid EDM beats in my ears. Not exercise—just a wander for my heart and my dog.
What we weren’t expecting was to find Lil Salty behind the counter. I skipped the line, leaned in close, and whispered, “Hey—will you make me a chai? Clyde’s waiting outside.”
He grinned like a Cheshire cat, asked about the new chai, confirmed hot with oat milk (always), and slid the cup across like it was a secret handshake. Then he ducked out from behind the counter to where his girlfriend sat, and the afternoon turned into a small, golden love-fest on the sidewalk. Clyde lapped up every bit of attention while I traded easy chatter before heading back up the hill.
It wasn’t a workout. It wasn’t even really a walk. Just a stroll under an orange-pink sky that looked like the world was blushing for us.
Lately the skies have been wild—solar flares, auroras, Mercury being her usual Retrobabe self. I can feel the static of it all in my bones. And if I’m honest, that same energy sometimes slips into a low hum of sadness. The kind that whispers, stay home, close the curtains, disappear for a bit.
But I know better.
What I need isn’t isolation—it’s communion.
People. Eye contact. Shared laughter over chai foam. A reminder that connection is the medicine.
So here’s my tiny revolution for this retrograde season: one human connection every day.
A walk, a hello, a message, a small act that breaks the seal between me and the world.
To hand someone a sandwich instead of just filling a fridge.
To look someone in the eyes and remember that only love can fill the empty cups.
The skies are flaring, the planets are misbehaving, and I’m still here—heart open, dog at my side, hands ready to give something warm away.
Only love can fill.
And I intend to keep pouring.
❦
NAKEDJEN 