I so appreciate your sharing one of the most, if not the most, challenging experiences of being embodied. Your words are eloquent and wise. One sentence I would like to steal: “So that I remember the delicacy of cells, the way we wash up on the shores of this life and are carried out again.”
This shook me to my core. Many times when I read your writing or listen to your music, I'm reminded of my Grandma. She was my strong female foundation growing up, a presence who brought stern love. Nothing would come between her, God, her family, and her community. She made a big impact on so many people's lives, I had never seen so many people at a funeral.
Towards the end of her life, the 20 years I knew her, she suffered with chronic pain, I distinctly remember the grimace on her face when she would stand up from sitting on the ground to play with me when I was young, the cane she would have to use to get around when I was a little older, her hunched over back from the weight of it all. A tangible Atlas. She lived through and took on so much pain. She saw love through it all. That's what I'm reading in this piece. Suffice to say, I cried harder and louder than I should have while reading this. Thank you for sharing!
Bless you and your powerful pregnancy! And thank you for putting these words to the pain, the nebula inside you. Your writing and how you walk as mother/artist inspires and nourishes me, again and again.
Dear Nandi:
I so appreciate your sharing one of the most, if not the most, challenging experiences of being embodied. Your words are eloquent and wise. One sentence I would like to steal: “So that I remember the delicacy of cells, the way we wash up on the shores of this life and are carried out again.”
Holding you with love,
Sharon
Many thanks for receiving this. Love to you, Sharon! 💗
This shook me to my core. Many times when I read your writing or listen to your music, I'm reminded of my Grandma. She was my strong female foundation growing up, a presence who brought stern love. Nothing would come between her, God, her family, and her community. She made a big impact on so many people's lives, I had never seen so many people at a funeral.
Towards the end of her life, the 20 years I knew her, she suffered with chronic pain, I distinctly remember the grimace on her face when she would stand up from sitting on the ground to play with me when I was young, the cane she would have to use to get around when I was a little older, her hunched over back from the weight of it all. A tangible Atlas. She lived through and took on so much pain. She saw love through it all. That's what I'm reading in this piece. Suffice to say, I cried harder and louder than I should have while reading this. Thank you for sharing!
This response touched me deeply -- thank you for sharing those memories of your grandmother. "A tangible Atlas." Much love to you, Serene!
Bless you and your powerful pregnancy! And thank you for putting these words to the pain, the nebula inside you. Your writing and how you walk as mother/artist inspires and nourishes me, again and again.
Love being connected with you this way, Tana! ❤️
Extraordinary writing
Many thanks, Binnie!
What a beautiful, gut-wrenching ode to pain--"fully embodied, elemental, the stuff of ancestors and stars." I feel this too.
Thank you, dear Diana. Lots of love ❤️