Dying/broken/forgiven.... now I begin

Born: 17-06-56....gemini.... monkey
re-born: 3-09-80
born again\found: 14-04-08
other notable dates: 10-03-68; 03-09-87; 23-03-96;
1-05-98; 31-01-02; 5-04-04

Interests: movement, stressed/transgressive embodiment, lived experience (body\space\time\relation)
expression ( word, dance, text, image, story, music, poetics)
learning, yielding......

Hopes for the blog:
offer up the wild intersectedness of lived experience and engage others in creative, expressive, perhaps irreverant, hopefully playful, and respectful encounters....
enact kindness
create moments of pause for disclosure, discovery, stillness

Saturday, February 26, 2011

8 over 6... a fledgling first try...

Deadly underestimating
the day I went to hell
heart of stone sensations grating
I know those feelings well
(And) it won't hurt, this hostage taking
 my beating's dulled with swell
(And) tending wounds of my own making
I find the words to tell
 I find a place to dwell

Sunday, February 20, 2011

In this place

In this place called home
storms blow in
no one panics
no matter what falls from the sky

In this place called home
wind & water 
forge wild misty silences
so deep
my solitude's heart
like a gift

In this place called home
your voice reaches
I remember
how important is the work of honesty

In this place called home 
you bring me back
I lean into this place

Wednesday, February 9, 2011


... wish I wasn't

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Ironic tribute triolet

tales of woe
empty box
Wounded fox
silent crow
tales of woe

Stumbling blocks
who's to know?
Keys, no locks
stumbling blocks.
Scattered flocks
bleeding snow
stumbling blocks
who's to know?

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Dry Date

In the fall of 1987 I brought temporary closure to a writing project that had brought me back to life... literally, it re-animated me.  Writing that story allowed me to honour two people whose stories deserved thoughtful attention through a powerful process of reflection, poetics and narration, and also allowed me to realize that I could feel all there was to feel and not implode with sorrow and longing. Up to that point in my life as an adult, I had managed  the emotional dimensions of my life with alcohol and other substances, but after living the process of bringing that story to disclosure, I could no longer find refuge in feeling nothing at all. I stopped using alcohol and other substances shortly after.
But, I did nothing else, really, in the service of living mindfully except stop. I may have been "dry", but I sure as hell was not sober.  It took me almost three years before  I took ownership of my alcoholism and addiction, with neither pride nor shame. February 1, 1990: the date I got honest with myself. My dry date.