i find identifying with things distasteful. it has forever made me uncomfortable. i have spent many hours throughout my life considering what labels i claim spirit star gazer mother reflector human being there are many i have held for a time only to let go storyteller. artist. teacher. editor. amateur astrologer. witness. for years bitcoiner was on my list. at conferences when asked what i do, i would answer, i'm a bitcoiner. even when i had jobs in the space - i thought..; BITCOINER is so much more important. it encapsulated freedom of thought, of movement, of narrative. rebellion with a purpose. an organized schema in the face of chaos. and even though i dropped it off the list years ago, today it feels present. today i feel the idealism of those days. the hope. the shimmer. the crowd. the commuity. the faith. i hear the party lines echoing ; don't trust, verify. stay humble, stack sats. be your own bank. hits differently. much of life is a dice roll, but this is a meaning i had not considered. today i am lost wondering about those days of identity. “bitcoiner” i wonder what in that structure might have helped to lead to this outcome... don’t trust, verify. but... we all had faith. who of us read the tea leaves? the whole narrative around this possibility was that you were protected if you followed these steps. when in actuality, you weren’t. you super were not. the bravado... i am not a public figure. i am not one to push bitcoin on others. i had one friend i reached out to last night as the sky was falling. and still - ... i feel culpable. i feel captured. i feel the narrative won out over the values. i was not exposed, but. my idealism has crashed. my hope for the future of bitcoin is shaken at least and shattered at worst. the deeper i look, the harder it is... be your own bank stack sats because one day they will come to mean something one day they will be real savings and you can sweep them off the exchange and put them into cold storage where they will be safe and you can protect them unless you can’t through little fault of your own... be your own bank. be sovereign. roll the dice. no, but actually - roll the dice. fuck. today i am broken. and i am sorry. and i do not feel like a bitcoiner.

contemplating the coldcard vulnerability and hack --- it is simply devastating. every new cycle of thought around it brings a different disappointment. but tonight my thoughts are with everyone who lost savings...; i wish there were words to wrap you up and absorb some of the hurt you must have... i am so sorry. i love you. & i am thinking of you.

i started this post with good morning, i love you. then the day went wild, i never finished it, and now i say, good night, sweet dreams. my son asked about my mom today: who's belly was i in?... i told him gramma angie. you didn't get to meet her. why i didn't get to meet her? she died before you were born. we went back and forth about life and death and illness... cancer, specifically. it was really beautiful...; i am amazed by his sweet thought processes. he's so young... we ended on how i see her in hawks and eagles... birds of prey... she loved to fly.. probably her favorite thing. followed by her love of gardening.. she had an out of this world flower garden. we went out to our garden to plant the last seedlings and move some hoses around before our weekend road trip. right at the entrance was an owl's feather. "gramma angie!" ... i think as of today all feathers to him will be my mom... pretty special...