SSS July 2025

Studio of Shadow Stories SSS is my YouTube channel. These posts evolved into a signature of raw responses, poetry, photos. Nothing happened planned and this is an attempt to catalog the works.

July 2, 2025

I used to live in survival mode on edge, waiting for the next blow.
Now I remind my body daily:
No one can reach me. No one holds my truth but me.
I am safe. I am whole.

🍀SSS

July 5, 2025

Dead Crabbys
A visual series.
Shells found, then arranged.
Bodies the tide returned, paused by my hands.

I pose them gently.
Not to beautify just to notice.
To let the stillness take a shape.

Not staged for spectacle.
Just offered back to the frame.
Crabs, undone holding form for a moment longer.

🦀SSS

July 6, 2025

“Everyday, someone you would never assume is doing the unimaginable, transmuting pain into creation in New Orleans” 🕸️SSS

July 7, 2025

Yesterday I floated in the pool long enough for a dragonfly to land on my hat and stay.

Not just pass over, stay. Wings flickering like some ancient code I’ve always halfway remembered. No chase, no fear. Just stillness. Trust. Presence.

Two hawks circled above me for most of the afternoon. I didn’t ask for a sign but sometimes the sky just sends one anyway. Or two. Or three.

The water was warm. My nervous system stopped bracing. I didn’t try to accomplish anything. I let the sun bake the grief out of my shoulders.

Sometimes healing doesn’t look like shadow work or breakthroughs.
Sometimes it’s just this:

Float. Watch. Receive

Let the world remind you that you’re part of it again.

🌊SSS

I’m a dancer.
My movement changes. My body changes. I change.
I don’t limit what I share because I’ve already lived enough years holding myself back.
I dance in styles and seasons.
I share because I enjoy it. And that’s reason enough.

💃SSS

July 8, 2025

Grief for the childhood I never got to live.
Grief for the caretaking I was forced to give too young.
Grief for the way the world tried to shape me into a mother
when all I ever wanted was to be free.

Grief for the rooms that shrank around me,
for friends who turned sharp,
for systems that fed on my spirit
and called it leadership.

Grief for the thirty lives gone
needles, cells, silence.

Grief for every version of me that didn’t make it.
And even more for the ones still waiting
to feel safe enough to begin.

July 11, 2025

Burial by the Pool

I came out looking for sun,
a break from the weight,
only to find a tiny stillness
pressed against the edge of the day.

A toad
silent now,
no longer hiding in the stone cracks
or calling out in the dusk.
Just there.
Gone.

And I couldn’t leave it.
Not like that.
Not under chlorine skies and concrete dreams.

So I gave it back to the earth.
With my own hands.
Soft soil,
a resting place,
a moment of stillness for something
that once pulsed with life.

I whispered a few words,
nothing planned,
just breath and presence.

And maybe that’s what this whole month is
little burials.
Grief laid gently under leaves.
The death of what no longer moves
in me.

I bury this toad,
and with it,
one more weight I no longer need to carry.

Let the sun watch.
Let the water hold me after.
Let it be sacred.

🐸SSS

July 13, 2025

I treaded lightly out to the pool, careful not to bear weight, but the rescues are saving me as much as I’m saving them.
It’s a saltwater pool, but it still needs chlorine and I don’t have the brain capacity to troubleshoot further, or the finances to restructure. So: daily saves it is. A small effort to not further impact what’s left of our ecosystem.

Today it was three wolf spiders. One of them pregnant, something I’ve never seen before. She almost got left behind, but something told me to double check. She hadn’t moved much. I hope she and her babies make it.

With my motion limited and my writing scattered, I sat and shared freely my non-weight-bearing body work session to clear the air, both here and beyond.

🕷️SSS

July 21, 2025

“A eulogy for the scroll”

Everyday fatigue, from hearing it all
Did you know?
Click here, like and subscribe

LTK and Amazon storefronts
oops, the credit card is on freeze.

Don’t ask me that, please.

Comment section: be kind.
Wouldn’t it be easier to rewind?

App this, a website for that.
Subscribe to read here
oh wait, I have an offering and a class

When will this realm pass?

🪦K.Anne via SSS

“Too Many Platforms, Not Enough Connection”

There are 6 main platforms for writers to share.
5 for photographers.
5 for storytelling.
5 for podcasts.

And that’s not counting the numerous organized independent,
and even more individuals.

With so much availability, connection should be easier
but we find ourselves isolated and overwhelmed,
sometimes indistinguishably.

At a time when people are seeking connection through shared values, experience, and knowledge,
this feels like a scattered disservice
guised as options of vast variability.

It is my belief we should all have easy access to connect.
I envision a primary database
where everyone has their own channel,
with no sponsors or financing dictating who finds who,
or what they have to purchase to get there.

For the sake of ease,
and working with where and what you have,
I think writing on YouTube posts,
storytelling in videos,
and Shorts as brief shared windows into creation
is the best simplification I can offer
my own central nervous system,
and maybe yours too.

✌🏻K.Anne via SSS

July 21, 2025

Ten years
ten years out of 43,
3 more before that,
showing up in various forms,
times of day,
moods,
illness and injuries,
some days was wise,
some days I was angry,
tears soaked my mat regularly,
and life went on,

but I pathed the moon,
and I followed the symbols,
when they ignored me
or worse
disregarded as being odd
but alas

here we are
in another form,
still showing up,
still expecting
darkness
and splendor.

🧘🏼‍♀️ K.Anne SSS

July 29, 2025

I looked up and there was a rainbow cloud, it’s probably fuel but even pollution can be pretty.