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I've been processing the passing of our beloved dog, Monkey, who taught me deep trust and patience, curiosity, tenderness, confidence and persistence, to ask for what I need, to show love, and the gravity of what it means to be a part of a pack
̲W̲e̲ ̲s̲t̲a̲r̲t̲ ̲w̲i̲t̲h̲ ̲n̲o̲t̲h̲i̲n̲g̲.̲ ̲T̲o̲ ̲b̲e̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲m̲e̲a̲n̲ ̲s̲o̲m̲e̲t̲h̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲s̲o̲m̲e̲o̲n̲e̲ ̲e̲l̲s̲e̲.̲ ̲T̲h̲i̲s̲ ̲e̲x̲i̲s̲t̲e̲n̲c̲e̲ ̲w̲e̲ ̲c̲a̲n̲n̲o̲t̲ ̲d̲i̲r̲e̲c̲t̲l̲y̲ ̲c̲r̲e̲a̲t̲e̲ ̲f̲o̲r̲ ̲o̲u̲r̲s̲e̲l̲v̲e̲s̲:̲ ̲i̲t̲ ̲c̲a̲n̲ ̲o̲n̲l̲y̲ ̲b̲e̲ ̲g̲i̲v̲e̲n̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲u̲s̲ ̲b̲y̲ ̲a̲n̲o̲t̲h̲e̲r̲.̲ ̲I̲t̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲a̲ ̲b̲l̲e̲s̲s̲i̲n̲g̲.̲
I've been thinking about acceptance as a fundamental step toward growth, g̲i̲v̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲u̲p̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲n̲e̲e̲d̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲u̲n̲d̲e̲r̲s̲t̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲i̲n̲ ̲o̲r̲d̲e̲r̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲f̲i̲n̲d̲ ̲p̲e̲a̲c̲e̲
I've been thinking about Honour's album À̲l̲á̲á̲f̲í̲à̲, which they dedicated to their late grandmother, where the title track began to take form after their last embrace, using their creative practice as a coping mechanism for loss
I've been seeking moments of connection, noticing light, spirit, love; p̲o̲r̲t̲a̲l̲s̲ beyond prosaic experience, perception, and comprehension
I've been thinking about our attempts to connect with spirits, and how in that act we are t̲a̲l̲k̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲v̲o̲i̲d̲, forever unknowing whether we can truly be in touch with them or not, but still connecting to some part of ourselves and the world on other levels
̲T̲h̲e̲ ̲b̲o̲d̲y̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲a̲ ̲h̲a̲u̲n̲t̲e̲d̲ ̲t̲e̲r̲r̲a̲i̲n̲—̲a̲ ̲l̲i̲v̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲r̲e̲c̲o̲r̲d̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲p̲e̲r̲s̲o̲n̲a̲l̲,̲ ̲f̲a̲m̲i̲l̲i̲a̲l̲,̲ ̲s̲o̲c̲i̲a̲l̲,̲ ̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲e̲p̲i̲g̲e̲n̲e̲t̲i̲c̲ ̲m̲e̲m̲o̲r̲y̲ ̲[̲…̲]̲ ̲f̲o̲r̲g̲o̲t̲t̲e̲n̲ ̲l̲i̲f̲e̲,̲ ̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲s̲y̲s̲t̲e̲m̲s̲ ̲t̲h̲a̲t̲ ̲f̲a̲i̲l̲e̲d̲ ̲i̲t̲.̲ ̲I̲ ̲c̲a̲r̲r̲y̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲m̲e̲m̲o̲r̲y̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲h̲i̲m̲ ̲i̲n̲ ̲h̲i̲s̲ ̲s̲p̲l̲e̲n̲d̲o̲r̲ ̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲h̲i̲s̲ ̲d̲e̲c̲l̲i̲n̲e̲.̲ ̲A̲n̲d̲ ̲w̲h̲a̲t̲ ̲I̲ ̲c̲a̲r̲r̲y̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲h̲i̲m̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲a̲l̲s̲o̲ ̲c̲o̲n̲n̲e̲c̲t̲e̲d̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲l̲a̲n̲d̲,̲ ̲i̲t̲s̲ ̲s̲e̲a̲m̲ ̲c̲o̲n̲n̲e̲c̲t̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲m̲e̲m̲o̲r̲y̲,̲ ̲l̲e̲g̲a̲c̲y̲ ̲i̲n̲t̲o̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲f̲u̲t̲u̲r̲e̲.̲ ̲M̲e̲m̲o̲r̲y̲ ̲i̲t̲s̲e̲l̲f̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲a̲ ̲k̲i̲n̲d̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲m̲a̲p̲,̲ ̲l̲i̲n̲k̲e̲d̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲t̲e̲x̲t̲u̲r̲e̲s̲,̲ ̲s̲m̲e̲l̲l̲s̲,̲ ̲s̲o̲n̲g̲s̲,̲ ̲p̲l̲a̲c̲e̲s̲,̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲a̲c̲t̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲r̲e̲m̲e̲m̲b̲e̲r̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲i̲n̲ ̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲i̲t̲s̲e̲l̲f̲ ̲a̲ ̲k̲i̲n̲d̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲h̲a̲u̲n̲t̲i̲n̲g̲.̲ ̲M̲u̲s̲i̲c̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲o̲n̲e̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲f̲e̲w̲ ̲p̲o̲r̲t̲a̲l̲s̲ ̲I̲ ̲h̲a̲v̲e̲ ̲i̲n̲t̲o̲ ̲m̲y̲ ̲f̲r̲a̲g̲m̲e̲n̲t̲e̲d̲ ̲m̲e̲m̲o̲r̲y̲,̲ ̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲w̲r̲i̲t̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲o̲n̲l̲y̲ ̲w̲a̲y̲ ̲I̲ ̲k̲n̲o̲w̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲r̲e̲c̲o̲v̲e̲r̲ ̲m̲y̲ ̲p̲e̲o̲p̲l̲e̲ ̲f̲r̲o̲m̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲n̲o̲t̲h̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲f̲o̲r̲g̲e̲t̲t̲i̲n̲g̲,̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲r̲e̲s̲i̲s̲t̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲e̲r̲a̲s̲u̲r̲e̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲b̲o̲r̲d̲e̲r̲ ̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲i̲t̲s̲ ̲c̲o̲n̲s̲t̲a̲n̲t̲ ̲o̲v̲e̲r̲w̲r̲i̲t̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲h̲i̲s̲t̲o̲r̲y̲,̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲s̲a̲l̲v̲a̲g̲e̲ ̲w̲h̲a̲t̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲d̲i̲s̲a̲p̲p̲e̲a̲r̲i̲n̲g̲.̲
̲M̲y̲ ̲e̲n̲c̲o̲u̲n̲t̲e̲r̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲w̲i̲t̲h̲ ̲l̲a̲n̲d̲s̲c̲a̲p̲e̲,̲ ̲m̲y̲ ̲r̲e̲a̲c̲h̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲o̲u̲t̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲i̲t̲,̲ ̲g̲a̲v̲e̲ ̲c̲l̲a̲r̲i̲t̲y̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲c̲o̲n̲c̲e̲p̲t̲s̲ ̲s̲t̲i̲l̲l̲ ̲d̲i̲f̲f̲i̲c̲u̲l̲t̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲p̲u̲t̲ ̲i̲n̲t̲o̲/̲r̲e̲t̲a̲i̲n̲ ̲w̲i̲t̲h̲ ̲l̲a̲n̲g̲u̲a̲g̲e̲s̲.̲ ̲[̲…̲]̲ ̲I̲ ̲b̲e̲c̲a̲m̲e̲ ̲a̲w̲a̲r̲e̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲m̲y̲ ̲o̲w̲n̲ ̲l̲o̲n̲g̲i̲n̲g̲,̲ ̲i̲s̲o̲l̲a̲t̲i̲o̲n̲,̲ ̲h̲y̲s̲t̲e̲r̲i̲c̲a̲l̲ ̲p̲o̲s̲i̲t̲i̲o̲n̲i̲n̲g̲,̲ ̲w̲h̲i̲l̲e̲ ̲a̲t̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲s̲a̲m̲e̲ ̲t̲i̲m̲e̲ ̲u̲n̲c̲o̲v̲e̲r̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲a̲ ̲n̲e̲w̲ ̲r̲e̲l̲a̲t̲i̲o̲n̲s̲h̲i̲p̲ ̲w̲i̲t̲h̲ ̲(̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲v̲e̲r̲y̲ ̲d̲i̲s̲a̲n̲t̲h̲r̲o̲p̲o̲c̲e̲n̲t̲r̲i̲c̲ ̲c̲o̲m̲p̲a̲n̲i̲o̲n̲ ̲i̲n̲)̲ ̲l̲a̲n̲d̲s̲c̲a̲p̲e̲.̲
I've been studying e̲r̲o̲s̲i̲o̲n̲,̲ ̲m̲a̲t̲e̲r̲i̲a̲l̲ ̲g̲e̲s̲t̲u̲r̲e̲s̲,̲ ̲a̲g̲e̲n̲c̲y̲,̲ ̲u̲n̲d̲o̲i̲n̲g̲; how the land, materials, traces they carry, and our bodies carry our experiences; not only in us but beyond us through generations and extra-familial ties in language, traditions, natural and cultural artifacts
I've been thinking about how, u̲s̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲i̲n̲t̲e̲r̲n̲e̲t̲, we store everything elsewhere, flying files across and beneath the earth and ocean, through light and air, networks of fiber optic cables and e̲l̲e̲c̲t̲r̲o̲m̲a̲g̲n̲e̲t̲i̲c̲ ̲s̲i̲g̲n̲a̲l̲s̲
I've been listening to K̲e̲l̲m̲a̲n̲ ̲D̲u̲r̲a̲n̲, on a flight home reflecting on how it feels like a slow procession, stretching moments and feelings; a ghostly whine up in my head, a somber celebration, an honor
̲D̲e̲a̲t̲h̲ ̲r̲e̲m̲i̲n̲d̲s̲ ̲u̲s̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲l̲i̲m̲i̲t̲s̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲l̲o̲v̲e̲,̲ ̲b̲u̲t̲ ̲i̲t̲ ̲a̲l̲s̲o̲ ̲s̲e̲t̲s̲ ̲l̲o̲v̲e̲ ̲f̲r̲e̲e̲
̲l̲i̲f̲e̲ ̲i̲s̲ ̲j̲u̲s̲t̲ ̲m̲a̲d̲e̲ ̲u̲p̲ ̲o̲f̲ ̲c̲i̲r̲c̲l̲e̲s̲.̲̲
̲a̲n̲d̲ ̲a̲t̲ ̲o̲u̲r̲ ̲l̲o̲w̲e̲s̲t̲ ̲p̲o̲i̲n̲t̲,̲ ̲w̲e̲ ̲r̲e̲t̲u̲r̲n̲ ̲t̲o̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲c̲i̲r̲c̲l̲e̲.̲