proclaiming the dream

yesterday: inauguration. artists and poets and leaders boldly telling the truth of who we are as a growing-up nation. “unfinished”, in the words of poet Amanda Gorman. in the truth-telling, clear dissonance emerged between our aspirations and reality. and into this gap, they breathed possibility. they stirred life. and proclaimed the dream. the power of

safety

“The world is selling safety all the time. By marketing fear.” –Peter Block at what cost do we choose safety? safety. our world tells us that safety and security are found externally. the other piece is that safety is found internally. a deep-down well within ourselves where solace and peace are always available. when things

creation

“Creation is the dwelling place of God.”—J.P.Newell when i live as art, with attention to the flow and in-betweenness in connection with the life force i become creation and take my rightful place in the universe my ancestors, cheering and joyful. in these moments, i find God.

hell yeah, laughter

laughter. the best medicine. i’ve long believed in this. back in the day, as a crisis counselor working with survivors of sexual and gender-based violence, i was often in awe of how much laughter there was in trauma care. in the darkest moments of a person’s life, how easy it was–how healing!–to find such pure

softening

the elder from South Africa looked at us snd wept out of rage, she said. and then turning to my dark-skinned sister the rage melted into sadness it is so good to see you, she said. and tears flowed. in these soul to soul connections, words do not matter.

the land’s workin’ me

i awoke this morning and got that today was a day of solitude. a day of carefully turning inward. what a week. on Epiphany, an attempted coup by white nationalists + the rise of Black leadership in Georgia; volatility growing amidst increasing political divides + calm organizing amongst peace-makers and spiritual activists; meg returning to

mirror

in college, i asked a boy i loved, “what do you see when you look in my eyes?” “me”, he replied. it was the most loving and hurtful thing– the most true.

christmas 2020

Last week, my dad stopped by unexpectedly to drop off Christmas gifts, masked. As he cracked open the door and hollered into our home what he was doing, sadness overcame me. I grieved touching and hugging on him; I grieved our sacred family traditions; I grieved for my children, for my beloveds, for me, for

mary, divine mother

mary has been always been a presence in my life. born at st mary’s hospital, brought up in st. mary’s church, attended marian heights academy for high school, st. mary’s college, now living on madonna place…she keeps hanging around. and yet, i’m still getting to know her. the past couple of weeks, she’s been with

in the weaving of life’s story

The threads are carefully Chosen Revealed Claimed and reclaimed As is the art of weaving Chosen Revealed Claimed and reclaimed The spaces in between Essential to the weaving.