001 darkness, burning, breath
001 darkness, burning, breath
Hi, hello to friends and strangers alike! This is my first newsletter: a new and slow way for me to connect with others, and I’m honored to hold your attention for these small periods of time.
This winter has me embracing darkness. The speed at which everything moves in the city and online in our virtual worlds leaves little room for contemplation. I’m seduced by the slowness of trees, of the circulation of the moon, of the importance of deep sleep. I’ve been taking more walks in the forest preserves here in Chicago and recording sounds from the bubbling creeks:
I recommend listening with headphones and imagine your ears suspended just above the creek. The pops and blubs of the water have me thinking of flowing fluids throughout the body, blood through the veins, the constant pulse. I’m currently taking an online movement course called “Ecosomatic Practices for living and dying with a damaged earth,” where we address these flows within our bodies while embodying the grief of our external ecosystems and their decay. If interested, Movement Research holds regular classes online but also in NYC.
I was briefly in LA from Jan 3-8th for a beloved friends’ wedding in the Sierra Madre hills. It was a beautiful celebration of love and joy that I haven’t witnessed in a long time. Their love is honest, bright, and strong. Like their love, the fires sparked a few days later, burning the wedding venue down and almost destroying my friend’s apartment in Altadena. They were able to leave and find shelter with friends in San Diego. I left as soon as I could with a souvenir of ash in my lungs. A reminder that life is precious, short, and unpredictable.
