My “storage is full.” My Drive can no longer hold anything more. There’s a trauma response to “having”. A house. A job. A led possibility. A seemingly causation of health matters. But does it matter and could we even be held responsible? When anything good arrives the question arises, ‘can I handle having this?’ Desires are long gone at this point. Just action, as if we’re being pulled through a force well beyond our strength. We can’t fight it, deny…
Dearest one, How could you ever be humble when you give yourself so completely? Please, don’t fall into the belief that “you’re not good enough”. How would you feel if you had my seat? Knowing all I know, seeing you with kindness eyes and truthful heart. You’re what we contemplate and write about = Aspiration transferring into INspiration. Just you, standing there, in your vortex. You have cultivated human diligence, tending to the soil before we sow our desires. Your…
Unit number 33 Our treasures have a hard time holding joy when there’s no space to hold them. Brown boxed life, living out of storage units in three different states. I ponder why I need to share this story as I don’t mean to depress. I’m no longer in 100% survival mode, as we just got our ticket to freedom – our family is now on parole as of last week. Finally a remote job, a possibility to think beyond…
Photographer: Teri Podsiki
Sunrise over Haines, Alaska, light on the landslide, 1yr later.
Haines, Alaska Landslide Year 1, Day of: Full circle – only to face our fateful day. What do I do with this ‘review’? Love it? Close it? I don’t have, nor do I know, my big feelings any longer. They’ve swallowed me whole, so all I know is my inside world. Tender and raw. I’m in no hurry here, I adjust. Crying is no longer in contrast here, it’s always damp. Vulnerability opens me to experience love in the strangest…
Haines, Alaska – a state of mind We’ve been through the ringer. Squeezed till teary juice comes, we know this, Haines, AK knows this. Not just as a witnesser, but a companion experiencer. But what most don’t know is how Haines, Alaska works. What is viewed from a far is the tragedy of a landslide, ripping up the very foundation in which we were just getting started. It’s cruel, it’s painful to witness, especially when you can’t see the ‘why’…
I was recently shamed. After I felt the hurt, I felt the turn around. Not just in response to the perpetrator, but where I was truthfully ashamed and he was *right. Instead of denial, I went inside myself to find where I agreed with him, but it wasn’t in the same context of his original statement. You see, where I felt shame was the entirety of the situation. He was the messenger helping me to get there, if I used…
Ghosting My House’s Funeral I sat there waiting for my husband, Steve, to return from the landslide property eviction, my kids pointing out my car’s window as we waited at the bottom of the hillside in the relative safe zone, ambivalent that I’m even parked here for a few minutes. I can’t even drive in the potholed area without having an energetic allergic reaction, even if my mind is elsewhere. Note, Haines, AK is only a few miles long of…
The Red Light to What Feels like the Road to Nowhere.(Haines Dec. 2020 Disaster – Landslide on Beach Road.)Front page picture of view down the landslide from the top by: Tom Ganner. The road is open, but we can’t go home – we are the ‘Red Zone’. As celebration happens on Beach Road, in Haines Alaska, it is a bittersweet reunion with our past lives. For half of the Beach Road community (Green-Zone) it is met with promise, excitement and…
Dear grieving heart, I am sorry for all you’ve gone through as it seems trite to type. Writing it out feels unbearable, as if to put it on paper brings it more into reality. Where am I? Am I typing too loudly? Thinking too loudly? Pouting too loudly? What’s too loud are those 21st century vehicles pulling up to a stop sign directly outside my paper sheeted apartment wall. The stop sign means stop motherfucker. I can’t believe this is…