Monthly Archives: May 2013

storyteller

below is a link to my Dad telling a story about the day he first took me to Kindergarten. It’s a story about thresholds, fears and triumphs, and letting go to walk into our own room.

Memo

Etta James in the bathtub, and "sending love and light" but not really.

I have a distinct memory of a Sunday afternoon in Chicago about 10 or so years ago and I was in my late twenties. I was filled to the brim with pain of different kinds, but mostly I had not stopped to search inside for spirit or hope. I looked older then than I do now, in more ways than five. Life as a dancer in Chicago while waiting tables was a recipe for dark circles and blown adrenals. Filled to the brim with too much life, I sunk into a hot bath~ claw foot tub and all, whiskey neat and well before sundown. Before I peeled off my clothes, I put on a ‘best of’ Etta James record in the hi-fi in the living room. I wanted the scratchy real record sound even if it meant I had to get up every few minutes and turn it over and run back to the bath. I remember the pain on both a cellular level and a spiritual one. I was not doing well, and my resources felt dry and cracked. I cried myself puffy and sick that day. I draw this memory because the pain imprint is still so vivid.
Since then, way harder things have happened than dancer’s distress and hard city serving ~like the deaths of my brother and father. But my cells and spirit are healthy and my hope is to draw those memories brighter than the rest. It occurred to me the other day that while my life is blessed and good and I have figured out the tools to get out of that bath tub, I […]