Friday, September 17, 2010

Wounds to Light

Our wounds
Our bleeding
Only makes us more whole

Its survival

They cleanse us
Create openess
to bring us closer
to building wholeness

Each part we cut,
We break,
We bleed out...
We can only fill
With light, with power and strength
Of our choosing.

Be well my sisters.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010


I actually wrote this on August 4, 2010, but just have not touched my blog in a while... I am going to start doing that again, more consistently. Everyday though, I have been writing a list of gratitude to end my days, a way to remember everyday, no mater how dim it may have appeared there is always light, there is always that silver lining- which are tips of sunbeams that are meant to lift us.

These were one of those moments, where silver lining was recognized:

I have been feeling change come over me in the past couple of days. The happiness from the growth of change, the movements forward, but also fear in the uncertainty of change, an anxious feeling. I was sitting at home last night and I made dinner and as I pulled the chicken out of the oven, and tuned the pasta to a low, I realized I made too much. I was thankful by the thought of leftovers for the next couple of days, but then my thanksgiving was paired with the thought of the last time I actually cooked for myself, just me. It was in my apartment on W45th St. and I remember, that day I had the the same recognition of making too much food. I've always been so used to cooking for others on top of doing so for myself. Cooking was for the purpose of not just nourishment, but also gathering. And I thought of moments of gathering in Cali, the enjoyment of cooking a meal and sharing it with family and friends, conversation and laughter over a meal made from my hands and heart. So here I was, thinking all of these thoughts, and as I finished up the last bits of prep for my dinner, I stood in the kitchen turning down the oven I felt tears start to well up in my eyes. I left my standing place and took a seat on my little couch and just let it flow.

I felt homesickness. It wasn't the same type of homesickness that have summoned tear from my eyes in the recent past, sitting in my even tinier apartment with no memories built in New York yet, and memories of California flooding my head. What I was feeling the other night was a new ailment of home longing... not to return home to Cali, but I longed to feel home in NY. I realized that moments like this were what was most familiar now, solitude and independence moments like pulling out dinner from the oven for myself. I have in one year of living in NY, so many memories to recall, and most are of me on my own. Which, has been strengthening and self-assuring and absolutely beautiful in its own right, but these memories did not feel like home to me. The realization of change rushed over me. All I wanted was to feel home again, just for that moment. I could recall the feeling of home in my head , but I just wanted to feel it, and it just made the tears come to surface even more.

Then I thought about the community I have found in NY, the family I have been blessed with that have become my constants and that have allowed me to become a constant for them and there it was, that feeling... home. I realized that I draw my feelings of home from people, in my encounters, experiences and relationships built with them. These individuals have been helping to initiate change in my life, which I have and have not readied myself for. The exchanges, happenings and experiences have heavily impacted my life and have and will continue to me a better artist, performer, leader, friend, daughter, sister and person with each day that passes.

The first people I think of that have helped grow home in my heart here are those who see New York as their home, where their heart is and have shared a piece of it with me, Enmanuel, Frank, Aisha and Frantz, Abe, Luke, Mike. Maybe that's why I feel such family with them all, because I feel the home that they have with one another in this city, the memories that they've shared in reflection and recollection with me that fill each sidewalk they've walked, each doorway they've entered, each stairway they've climbed, and each train ride they've taken... I'm building on my own memories, my own feeling of home in NY now and if any of you are reading this I just wanted you to know that I am so thankful that you are present in those memories.

Thank you for allowing me to feel home in you.