Page 10 of Unclench Me Softly

I sit down cross-legged in the center of the circle and try to breathe.

Inhale: inner peace. Exhale: not his fault he’s hot. Inhale: masculine healing. Exhale: muscles are not a personality.

Toad wanders by the dome entrance, chewing on what I hope is a stick of incense.

“You starting the Circle of Unclenching?” he asks, peeking in.

“Yes,” I say, serenely. “And I would like to be unclenched in peace.”

He nods, clearly trying not to laugh, and wanders off.

Outside, Jax drops the axe, stretches his arms above his head, and makes a noise that is definitely illegal in a sacred space.

I close my eyes and whisper, “I am not sexually attracted to rage.” Pause a beat and repeat. “I am not sexually attracted to rage.”

Another beat.

“…I might be sexually attracted to rage.”

Bliss-ism #53/c:

If you feel like your soul is glitching, turn it off and on again. And maybe cry.

Chapter Three:

Namaste, I’m Spiraling

I am not prepared for another guest.

I am especially not prepared for another early guest, because I am currently crouched behind a geodesic dome, holding a bundle of mismatched crystals like I’m about to duel someone in Yu-Gi-Oh.

Toad swears each guest “has a vibe.” Jax was all fire and brimstone. This one, he said, was going to be “very wet energy.”

I didn’t ask what that meant. I regret not asking.

The moment I hear tires on gravel, I know Toad wasn’t wrong.

A sleek black car pulls into the clearing like it’s allergic to dirt. It’s silent. Chic. Probably costs more than my uterus is worth on the black market.

The door opens and he steps out.

Tall-ish, lean, wearing designer sneakers and a hoodie that probably has a tech company logo on it somewhere obscure. He looks like he cried recently and tried to meditate about it. His hair is slightly mussed, like he ran a stressed hand through it one too many times.

He sees me and freezes.

I stand, slowly, like a suspicious deer or a woman who just realized she’s holding a rock named “Greg” in one hand and a fake ceremonial bell in the other.

“Hi,” he says. “Are you Bliss?”

I take a breath, give him the goddess smile. “I am. You’re early.”

His eyes go wide, then horrified. “Oh no. Oh shit. I thought, I must’ve messed up the calendar. Oh god. I did mess up the calendar. I can go. Should I go? I can drive around until the time is right.”

“You don’t need to orbit the retreat,” I say, holding up a calming hand. “You’re here now. And that’s... intentional.”

He nods quickly, like a squirrel accepting a complicated truth. “Right. Yes. Divine timing. I read about that. In a blog. Or maybe a podcast.”

I smile wider. “Welcome to Solstice Hollow.”

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