Tag Archives: presence

be with not knowing

graffiti on stairs: I love you / every step / of the way

it says, "I love you / every step / of the way" -- perfect

Good Thursday morning! Today it’s achy legs from walking and achy shoulders from teaching a dog not to pull at the leash (just because I’m standing still doesn’t mean my arm isn’t getting yanked!) — and, also,  it’s woodpeckers on the telephone poles, jays hopping around in the middle of the street, and hawks waking up over the hills.

Today’s tea is nettle-tulsi-skullcap-cardamom-anise. What scent or taste is bringing you some peace in these early hours?

Continue reading

Community and remembrances

(a slightly longer version of this got posted on my livejournal — katasutra.livejournal.com)

Thank you, Kathleen — thanks to your love and your consistent spirit and to the ways you have affected my life, without my even knowing it.

Yesterday was Kathleen Bolton’s memorial service, and one of the things I’d like to spend some time writing about community — community in all its bigness and struggle and frustration & magnificence. There’s been a community sustaining me here in the bay area since I moved here, though I’ve felt on the outside. There’s a community of family & the dearest of friends forged over the past two decades (and then some, I suppose, with respct to the blood family, huh?) that I’m only just now, maybe, allowing to filter into the hardened-est, most vulnerable edges of my heart. The community that showed up here in SF for the Body Heat show just about tore my heart out, it was so gorgeous and celebratory — and then the communities we got to touch into as we crossed the country: San Diego, Minneapolis, Columbia, Columbus, Easthampton, Boston, Providence, Philly, D.C., Atlanta — even those we didn’t meet directly (Milwaukee, Asheville and the folks listening to Diana Cage’s radio show there in the morning’s wee hours) — the love and support was deep and present and nearly unquestioned.

And ok, sure — sometimes, for survivor girl over here, it’s hard to trust, to believe in, that kind of presence of spirit and appreciation, that unadulterated love, that faith & yes there was trust — the kind that offers food and home to strangers, the kind that shows up to listen and offers cheers, the kind that welcomed us at each and every stop (truly).

Continue reading