The light burnt out in the downstairs hallway, I fretted you wouldn’t find me should you awake. Yet, there you were at 5am, by my bedside, warm and sleepy, my body felt your presence before my brain caught up. I lifted you up, your hand brushed my cheek. Hey little man, I say, you ok?…
For all our lovely people who have fed us and loved on us when times have been tough Ikea cinnamon rolls, sticky and sweet, hard at the edges, aflame with cinnamon in the middle. Poblano enchiladas, dotted with meaty cremini mushrooms, flaky croissants from the local bakery, chocolate chunks snuck behind the open pantry door….
God, I’m a miserable shit when I don’t write. I look everywhere, upside down and right side up. I look enraged. My kids see me as a person who blames, enflamed. Remember that poem by Shel Silverstein? “Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout, would not take the garbage out” Her life a big and peely mess, trash…
Rituals feel like a sturdy shoe, Bouncy soul, duty worn, made for mileage. When I used to hear the word ritual I thought it full of sexy magic, sensual light flicking on shadowy places. In this season I feel it exists more in the Earth. Lumps and clumps of soil, sediment and rock. Layered in…
Healing from trauma has been like jesus going into the depths and getting the keys of heaven. There have been many three days of traversing before the stone was rolled away. My sorrows, bodily reactions, fears and numbness, deep, deep loathing had to be swathed and wrapped with linen and spices, packing the side wound,…
I did not know the valleys and forges that landscape a family, A unit, A wholly complicated venture. The moments I have uttered Yes. And the minutes, seconds, hours and yawning time of deep reflection and charged change when my soul put up hands to say, No, Not yet, I’m unsure. How do we/I grow…
All my beauty has been born from my rage. All the golden dawned healing, all the sacred touches of lineage, sacrifices, tears, bold and becoming has been birthed from that screaming place. The shame places, the sore, pussy wounds that were once covered, quieted and ignored. They ruled anyway. I saw myself as a giant,…
I am ashamed at how messy my life is becoming. I cleaned the drawers, ordered dividers, intent on making it neat, I have been absolutely convinced that I, we, were rounding the corner to sanitation. Order and calm so cool and convincing I was already placing my face on that cold side of the pillow,…
I grew up with the narrative that the world was against us. Every time my father tried for something I held my breath, I gripped the airplane seat to keep it all afloat. And if he failed, I had failed, the world had failed, god had failed us, me, for I didn’t know how to…
What a beautiful, trembling, motivator of a card. Who knows why we start anew? Who knows the reasons that we step out into faith, into vastness and journeys both treacherous and full of bounty. It’s Father’s Day, and like many others, I was gifted a Father who suffered and caused suffering, unchecked mental illness, severe…