Tag Archives: mothers

unlearning grace

When I was a dancer, grace was a large part of my life. Then, grace was about making your extreme physical exertion appear as if a feather was moving lightly through air. Making your effort look effortless. Your pain invisible. Part of me wishes I had never learned that form of grace, that supposed gracefulness. Part of me is grateful for what I’ve gained in the process of unlearning it.

for Kamo

Someone said to me this week “sometimes abandoning your child is the greatest act of love,” about a child named Kamo, who was neglected and then abandoned six years ago and just returned to the mother who left him, right as he nears the end of his life. It’s a notion I’ve wondered on sinceContinueContinue reading “for Kamo”

I feel her in the maybe

What if we let others walk with us, even if from a distance? What if we let our complexity shine out, rather than close off and cage us? What if we stood in our reality, and let it be?

I think that’s what she would have done.

So what if I said: my mother, the human who shaped and grew me, died two and a half months ago and this is what was in me in the before, during, and after?

Things That Appear Broken But Upon Closer Inspection Are Beautiful

In the midst of many movements, physical and figurative and of the soul, words I once wrote have a way of coming back around: 11 November 2014 Things That Appear Broken But Upon Closer Inspection Are Beautiful A slight glint of the equator peeks through the rust on the dilapidated gurney. Soft eyelashes continuing toContinueContinue reading “Things That Appear Broken But Upon Closer Inspection Are Beautiful”

That is Something

I have witnessed suffering. I have seen horrible things. I have watched indescribable pain. I turned around; there two babies lay next to one another on the bed, silenced by pain, save for slight mewing. Their bandages were removed and I glanced twice, three times, four before I could comprehend what was missing: their tinyContinueContinue reading “That is Something”