“[Soma] translates to the nectar of the gods and refers to collective spiritual wisdom and energy, not just individual experience… Waters, the Earth, the Air, the Space, the elements, and our interbeing nature, that’s part of you.”
Susanna Barkatak, Embodied Social Justice.
entangled belonging series
meditations on (re)storying your dignity and belonging with the more-than-human world
Explore channeled inkvocations below. These can be paired with storywork, or inspire a custom mythopoetic intuitive tattoo.
featured: blue heron
catch presence, release reactivity.
wade patiently through cataclysmic currents,
wings at the back, hooks for feet.
find them amongst sea-churned stones
where land, water, and wind meet.
chest a space for filling. that hollow, harrowing cavity. what goes in? breath? belonging? the feather-light touch of dreams dawning?
stay. be still. the slow pulse is an indomitable force.
___________________
blue heron blesses us with patience amidst external pressures and the rising tide of panic. their wings span the wide breadth of wisdom that exists within, before, and between us. they traverse realms of air, earth, and water to cultivate balance in perception and place-based offering. their long neck and keen eyesight stretch our imagination to possible, liberated futures while their fisher-feet stay immersed in the currents of change.
design available to awaken only once.
embodied ideations
placement ideas are infinite and intimate. different sides of our bodies relate to maternal/paternal lineages, giving/receiving, creation/connection. different body centers relate to sakra (filipinx chakra) or cauldrons (celtic), energetic sources of our power. schedule a free connection call in the booking portal if you would like support reflecting on a resonant placement.
channled inkvocations
your body is a place of worship
entangled with the divine
where ancestors, story, memory, relation, and myth meet
the ocean and naga, or sea-serpent
are moon-mediated conduits to the underworld
where fear is alchemized through transformation
where we meet our ancestors, our past, our depths…
(read more)
ᴛᴏ ᴇᴍʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀɢᴀ
ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴇssᴇʟ ɪɴ ᴡᴀʏs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴsᴄᴇɴᴅs ʀᴇᴀʟᴍs
ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜɪғᴛs ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏɴsᴄɪᴏᴜsɴᴇss
ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍᴜʟᴛ
ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴄᴀʟᴇs sʟɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴀ ғʟᴏᴏʀ
ᴇɴᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴅʏ
ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄɪɴᴇ ɪs ʜᴏᴜsᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ
//
ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴜɴᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏʟᴀʀ ᴇᴄʟɪᴘsᴇ
ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜᴘʜᴇᴀᴠᴀʟ
ᴡᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ sᴘɪʀɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴏᴅɪᴇs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡɪsᴅᴏᴍ ᴛᴏ sʜᴀʀᴇ.
ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀ sᴜʀғɪɴɢ, ʜᴀs ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴜɪᴅɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛʟᴇss ᴛɪᴍᴇs. ᴍᴀɢᴡᴀʏᴇɴ ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇs ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴɪᴄ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴀs ɪ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ, ᴛᴜᴍʙʟᴇ, ʀᴇɴᴇᴡ. ɢʀᴀᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴀɴᴀᴋᴀ ᴍᴀᴏʟɪ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ sᴜʀғᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴅɪɢᴇɴᴏᴜs ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴡᴀɪɪ. ᴍᴀʏ ᴏᴜʀ sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇs ғᴏʀ ʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀs.
sɴᴀᴋᴇs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ʏᴇᴀʀ. ɪɴ ғɪʟɪᴘɪɴᴏ ғᴏʟᴋʟᴏʀᴇ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪɴғʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇxᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sᴏᴜᴛʜ/ᴇᴀsᴛ ᴀsɪᴀɴ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇs, ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ ʙᴜᴅᴅʜɪsᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪɴᴅᴜɪsᴍ, ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀɢᴀ ɪs ᴀssᴏᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴᴄᴇsᴛʀᴀʟ ᴠᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴄᴇʟᴇsᴛɪᴀʟ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀs (ʙᴀᴋᴜɴᴀᴡᴀ), ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ. ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀɢᴀ ɪɴғʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇs ᴀʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴛɪғs ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋʀɪs (sᴡᴏʀᴅ), ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴛᴇᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴋᴀʀᴀᴋᴏᴀ (ᴡᴀʀ sʜɪᴘ), ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪɴɢʟɪɴɢ-ᴏ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs ᴇxᴘʀᴇss ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀsʜɪᴘ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ғᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ. ᴍᴀʏ ᴡᴇ ʀᴇsɪsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪsᴇᴍʙᴏᴅɪᴇᴅ ɴᴇᴏ-sᴘɪʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴅɪɢᴇɴᴏᴜs ᴡᴀʏs.
ɪ ᴇɴᴠɪsɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇs ʟᴀʀɢᴇ (𝟾+ ɪɴᴄʜᴇs) ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏʀsᴏ – ᴄʜᴇsᴛ, ʙᴇʟʟʏ, ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅᴘᴏᴋᴇ ᴏʀ ʜᴀɴᴅᴘᴏᴋᴇ + ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ ᴍɪx. ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅɪsᴄᴜss ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴇʀɢᴇᴛɪᴄs ᴏғ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅᴘᴏᴋᴇ/ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ.
ᴛᴏ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ʀʜɪᴢᴏᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ ʀᴇᴄɪᴘʀᴏᴄɪᴛʏ, ʙᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ sʜᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ, ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴀʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴄᴇsᴛʀᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ sɴᴀᴋᴇs/ɴᴀɢᴀ. ᴡᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ sɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀʙs/ᴘʟᴀɴᴛᴄᴇsᴛᴏʀs ᴀᴄᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs.
what do you desire? for your healing? for the collective? for the earth?
invoke the erotic through the gateway of your body. crown your grief. let lunar bloom drip into a pine-pollen solarized center. rest in slow sluggy trails and belly-to-earth vulnerability. be based in thistle-thorn boundaries and the promise of change. call forth. call forth. enter. become.
with our breath, we commune with the world and make the invisible tangible…
we exchange a part of ourselves with the present moment. the wind, our breath, is a reminder our body is a place – the ancient and future site of liberation. we allow the wind – the collective breath – to carry us forward.
break open. re-weave. let the silk slip. spider-body as bundok…
invisible strands in the snow. wrap the flesh in a cocoon. so tight. the holy mother feeds on you. secrets suspended. silent swaying. let them bleed a glacial melt. in the summer. bottle at the source. dreams you never felt.
at Mt. Tahoma
now more than ever, as we mobilize and metabolize, we need to be rooted in our dignity and watched over by our ancestors…
we need to attune to our offerings, contend with our differences, and channel the spirit, the fury, the passion of those in our lineages – blood and chosen – who have resisted across time and place. the path is not new but the way is – “for there are no new ideas, only new ways of making them felt” (Audre Lorde). this piece wants to awaken upon the spine, throat to chest, or on the belly. open to other placements ideas calling to your vessel.
lessons in land listening and vocal expression…
what sounds do you shape? they needn’t be a word. let them be a wail. let them warble. let them crack and rumble. let them be tender. let them sink and soften. listen. can you hear the chanting in caves echo masses in the streets? can you hear the owl’s feather brush the moon? you are made of these chords. let your body be an instrument.
(design claimed, can inspire a custom mythopoetic session)
aboliton & eros, anger & grief…
we do not fear anger in our movement because we cultivate (re)generative rage. we shape sacred grief. what you long for is visceral, alive. what you long for from the depths of your entangled roots moves you towards, not away. where is love located in your body? let’s begin there.
let the heat of your passion spill into the sea…
let the sea recognize the raw molten earth of your feelings for what they are – love and longing for liberated futures and the heap of hurt that denies them. let the magma and the waters birth new worlds across their differences. let your body be the fertile soil from which hope blooms. recommended before in(k)vocation: read Audre Lorde’s essay, “Eye to Eye: Black Women, Hatred, and Anger,” if you have not already. this quote enlivens me: “anger is the grief of distortions between peers, and its object is change.”
stars are the originators of dialogue across difference. emission can only be witnessed in relation…
each pulse is a practice in friction and fusion. each implosion the raw materials for a system possible of sustenance. gravity returns us to the core: what am i here to be? to feel? to connect and create with? how can i honor those in my orbit as sacred? how can we strengthen a web of relations that is not insular but interstellar? from root to cosmos we align in our dignity and try and fumble and mend and try again.
*this piece may also inspire a freehand cosmic entanglement on any vessel placement
your body is a place of worship…
ᴇɴᴛᴀɴɢʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴠɪɴᴇ
ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴄᴇsᴛᴏʀs, sᴛᴏʀʏ, ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ, ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏᴛʜ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴀɢᴀ, ᴏʀ sᴇᴀ-sᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛ
ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ-ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴜɪᴛs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴡᴏʀʟᴅ
ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ғᴇᴀʀ ɪs ᴀʟᴄʜᴇᴍɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʀᴀɴsғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴏᴜʀ ᴀɴᴄᴇsᴛᴏʀs, ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀsᴛ, ᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜs
ᴛᴏ ᴇᴍʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ
ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀᴡᴀʏs ғʟᴏᴡ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴍʙ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ
ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇssᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ᴅʀᴏᴘ ɪɴ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
ᴛᴏ ᴇᴍʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀɢᴀ
ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴇssᴇʟ ɪɴ ᴡᴀʏs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴsᴄᴇɴᴅs ʀᴇᴀʟᴍs
ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜɪғᴛs ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏɴsᴄɪᴏᴜsɴᴇss
ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍᴜʟᴛ
ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴄᴀʟᴇs sʟɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴀ ғʟᴏᴏʀ
ᴇɴᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴅʏ
ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄɪɴᴇ ɪs ʜᴏᴜsᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ
//
ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴜɴᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏʟᴀʀ ᴇᴄʟɪᴘsᴇ
ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜᴘʜᴇᴀᴠᴀʟ
ᴡᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ sᴘɪʀɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴏᴅɪᴇs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡɪsᴅᴏᴍ ᴛᴏ sʜᴀʀᴇ.
ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀ sᴜʀғɪɴɢ, ʜᴀs ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴜɪᴅɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛʟᴇss ᴛɪᴍᴇs. ᴍᴀɢᴡᴀʏᴇɴ ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇs ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴɪᴄ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴀs ɪ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ, ᴛᴜᴍʙʟᴇ, ʀᴇɴᴇᴡ. ɢʀᴀᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴀɴᴀᴋᴀ ᴍᴀᴏʟɪ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ sᴜʀғᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴅɪɢᴇɴᴏᴜs ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴡᴀɪɪ. ᴍᴀʏ ᴏᴜʀ sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇs ғᴏʀ ʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀs.
sɴᴀᴋᴇs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢʀᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ʏᴇᴀʀ. ɪɴ ғɪʟɪᴘɪɴᴏ ғᴏʟᴋʟᴏʀᴇ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪɴғʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇxᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sᴏᴜᴛʜ/ᴇᴀsᴛ ᴀsɪᴀɴ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇs, ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ ʙᴜᴅᴅʜɪsᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪɴᴅᴜɪsᴍ, ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀɢᴀ ɪs ᴀssᴏᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴᴄᴇsᴛʀᴀʟ ᴠᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴄᴇʟᴇsᴛɪᴀʟ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀs (ʙᴀᴋᴜɴᴀᴡᴀ), ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ. ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀɢᴀ ɪɴғʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇs ᴀʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴛɪғs ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋʀɪs (sᴡᴏʀᴅ), ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴛᴇᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴋᴀʀᴀᴋᴏᴀ (ᴡᴀʀ sʜɪᴘ), ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪɴɢʟɪɴɢ-ᴏ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs ᴇxᴘʀᴇss ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀsʜɪᴘ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ғᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ. ᴍᴀʏ ᴡᴇ ʀᴇsɪsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪsᴇᴍʙᴏᴅɪᴇᴅ ɴᴇᴏ-sᴘɪʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴅɪɢᴇɴᴏᴜs ᴡᴀʏs.
ɪ ᴇɴᴠɪsɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇs ʟᴀʀɢᴇ (𝟾+ ɪɴᴄʜᴇs) ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏʀsᴏ – ᴄʜᴇsᴛ, ʙᴇʟʟʏ, ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅᴘᴏᴋᴇ ᴏʀ ʜᴀɴᴅᴘᴏᴋᴇ + ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ ᴍɪx. ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅɪsᴄᴜss ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴇʀɢᴇᴛɪᴄs ᴏғ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅᴘᴏᴋᴇ/ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ.
ᴛᴏ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ʀʜɪᴢᴏᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ ʀᴇᴄɪᴘʀᴏᴄɪᴛʏ, ʙᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ sʜᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ, ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴀʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴄᴇsᴛʀᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ sɴᴀᴋᴇs/ɴᴀɢᴀ. ᴡᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ sɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀʙs/ᴘʟᴀɴᴛᴄᴇsᴛᴏʀs ᴀᴄᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs.
we need you nourished. overflowing with care. rested in the oasis of your body, the land, your loved ones…
how can we re-learn sanctuary at the crossroad of stolen stories and forgotten softness? let’s begin with ancestral grief technologies: call them to your skin, your veins, each fibre of your being. find the pathways well traveled; divinely guided. expand to the present. who do you allow to see you in vulnerability? the ocean? the moon? don’t you know they are reflected in each of us, too? i love you. i love you. i love you.
linden – tilia spp.
(for those who forgot how to cry)
break
the dam that holds you
dried ducts swell
at the places you fall apart
catch tears as they pass secrets
through the cracks in practiced armor
you are not a warrior
but a waterway
taste the salt
as you sink into sea
meet the collective there
meet the trancestors there
meet you there
poetry published as part of my Trans Materia Medica, Queer Earth Food 2024
when your tears fall, where do they land?
salted skin? thirsted soil? how deep do they travel? do they penetrate the parts the past the unseen? what is birthed when you let your grief spill onto the earth? only when you let yourself fall, will you be caught.
luya entangled 