february: intention
We’re at a critical point here. We have been for about 2 years. To be overworked and underpaid in such a time of collective grief keeps our heads down, able only to focus on what’s directly in front of us–bills, food, work, kids, etc. Now last month, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Survival at this point in time is radical. And if that’s true, then hope and imagination must be utterly transcendental at this point.
january: intention
Endurance involves acceptance, commitment, and resolve from the very beginning until the absolute end. And in the case of the Covid-19 pandemic, it has meant masking, distancing, and staying away from large gatherings from March 2020 till now (and at this rate, well into the future).
december: intention
Getting through all the woes and grief of this pandemic is a cause for celebration in and of itself. But to really celebrate such a triumph, we cannot deny the less-than-festive reality of new variants and rising transmission rates. Is there a way to remain present in the universal truth while revelling in our personal joy? And what might that look like for you and yours? What intentions can you bring to the holidays this year and every celebration in between?
october: intention
To cope is to do the best with what we have. Coping is never perfect and it certainly isn’t a science. After months of obsessive reading and writing, I still felt empty. And to this day there is still a void within me to which no amount of long walks, meditating, skateboarding, painting, or the like could fill.
september: intention
Realizing all of me could never be completely known by all of someone else (and vice versa), I mourned this idealized sense of connection and community I once yearned for. And where else could I go from this grief other than further into my study of self, excavating parts of me that I misunderstood because I’d chosen to take someone else’s word for it and instead of speaking what I knew, my truth.