Even with the buffering of the return with a week in the mountains of Colorado and the stunning saguaro desert of Arizona, my return to the Bay after six months of travel has been jarring. A meeting back of two souls searching to see where and how the other has changed. The unspoken question of… Continue reading When Waiting for Gladioli to Bloom
it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morningin the broken world. --Mary Oliver, from Invitation B said that she used to think that Washington Square Park was the center of the world. When I walk through the center of the park and feel the mist from the fountain settle on… Continue reading For 35: When the Arc of the Moral Universe Feels Too Long
I went to my first yoga class in over a year recently. Yoga has never been a first line of offense when I am in need of fitness in my life. I am deeply self-conscious in a yoga studio. Hyper aware when I am slow to catch on to a pose and to the limitations… Continue reading From Liminal Space to Beginnings
The War Remnants Museum in Saigon is a museum that does not shy away from the purpose of its existence. Its core thesis is evident in every exhibition, every photograph, even the song that plays on repeat with the haunting vocals of a child echoing across the halls. On the second floor of the museum… Continue reading In the Midst of Motorbike Storms: Saigon and Reflections on Finding Calm and Movement
If you come as softlyAs the wind within the treesYou may hear what I hearSee what sorrow sees. -from "If You Come Softly" by Audre Lorde Six months ago I wrote a piece about my corn plant that I had been slowly nursing back to health and how broken down things can be revived. Six… Continue reading Toward 34: “If You Come Softly”
If there was a frequent flyer program for crying on airplanes, I would always fly first class. I can't remember when I first decided that these steel birds were the perfect environment for heart-wrenching tears, but they have been the primary setting for some of my deepest (and loudest) sobs in life. Perhaps it's because… Continue reading The Art of Plane Crying
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
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
I never thought that sitting outside, the rays of the sun kissing my face and dancing off of my dark skin would feel so rare and necessary. Today is my 53rd day in some type of self-quarantine or shelter-in-place since returning from Thailand at the end of February. I didn't know when I was on… Continue reading Held
The coronavirus had been on my mind since early January because I was scheduled to go to Thailand for vacation and work in February, and I was unsure if I should or would be able to go. I carefully watched each day as cases and deaths in China continued to rise, and held my breath… Continue reading Separation, Distance
Odelia Younge 