Thirty-three. A year many refer to as your "Jesus Year." Scholars believe that 33 is the year that Jesus started a spiritual and political revolution that led to his crucifixion. It's a year meant to put you on a different path than the ones you were on before. The year you put the things together… Continue reading For 32: The Practice of Letting Go
Two weeks ago I walked into my hair salon and let my hairdresser Opal chop my hair off. Two weeks before that, I had been washing my hair and cried as clumps of it easily wound its way around my hand as I rinsed conditioner out of my hair. I'd been losing hair for more… Continue reading “Healing is a promise.”
I begin my days with the start of the prayer of Teilhard de Chardin: Above all, trust in the slow work of God. Time is something that moves slowly these days. Time between the next blood draw, the next doctor's visit, the next thing to change about my daily routine to adapt to new realities.… Continue reading Love notes to my body and the slow work of God
Breathe in. What do you do when the very thing that is meant to help you can also kill you? Breathe out. According to my nurse, about 15% of patients who get iron infusions react to them. A reaction can range from a tickle in the throat and rashes to more serious reactions. Breathe in.… Continue reading Breath
I have these tiny bumps, almost like a tiny plague of boils that started on my fingers and have now covered all of them and across my palms, crept up my wrists and have now appeared on the tops of my feet. I don't know if they're a type of rash, reaction to medicine, skin… Continue reading Skin
I have a beautifully worded tweet as my cover image on my Facebook page that contains the words, "The glory of God is Black people alive." When I first saw it, I drank in each word of the sentence. Memorized each curve of every letter. I often share and fall in love with beautiful statements… Continue reading Forgiven
Two weeks ago I went to get new waist beads, a ceremony that has marked moments in my life over the past five years. Browns, yellows, whites, greens, chakras and beads adorning my waist, grounding me in the beauty and brokenness of life. Last week when I was showering, I noticed that all my beads… Continue reading Interlocked
Yemaya, The moon is full and I am overflowing with the myriad things inside me. I drench myself in blues around my waist and feel the weight of beads against my skin. Cool to the touch they ground me in you as the tides get higher. Yemaya, Please see me. Walking toward you sideways through… Continue reading Everything Can Wait
I think about June Jordan's words too often: "And what shall we do, we who did not die?" Some of us did not die. I reside in a liminal space of feeling deeply grateful for the ways my body has carried me through the pandemic, especially as it has been carrying me more than I… Continue reading I don’t know how to do this.
On Thursday night I spent 12 hours in the emergency room at Highland Hospital. I had forgotten how cold and lonely the ER is, waiting in old chairs under fluorescent lights, anxiety high, clutching my bag, mask on, avoiding contact with others, and waiting for my name to be called. I'm someone who believes in… Continue reading Today I Went to the Doctor and Cried II
Odelia Younge 