february: work
The work of imagination is to let it fucking RUN, baby! Run, run, and don’t stop. There are already enough restrictions, borders, and policing in this world; your dream life, your inner world should be the first place we practice abolishing those inherited and restrictive habits (arguably, generational curses). Such freedom, acceptance, and lawlessness can be terrifying since it’s often the opposite of what we’ve experienced. In fact, such a pure form of imagination often directly contradicts what we were told was “safe.”
january: work
We’ve all spent more mental energy tracking what activities we’ve done, who we’ve been in contact with, and if that tickle in our throats is just allergies or something more lethal. The anxiety of it all adds to the fatigue and sleep is no longer restful or restorative, but rather just a break from the Covid-calculations. This is the longest some of us have been inconvenienced by our bodies and the health care system. But disabled folks have been here before and there is wisdom, medicine, and righteous anger in their(/our) stories of survival.
december: work
For this month, maybe “experiment” or “play” would be better suggestions than “work,” since the formal ideas of labor and celebration seem to be perfect antonyms in our culture. But then again, why shy away from the reality of the feelings we’re facing during this time? Afterall, the whole point of this Year of Healing project is to welcome in the truths coming up for us.
november: forgiveness
Without forgiveness, we might as well be wholly embalmed in our past understanding and ways of life, locked in a karmic coffin of “it’s always been this way.” But stepping up to the challenges of our day to accept the truth and the divinity of our own mortality is to live and die sustainably, for the greater good.
november: work
We are nothing without death. We must learn to coexist with its beautifully chaotic nature or we will continue to lose sight of purpose and hope. Get comfortable in your own skin to the point of no longer needing it.
october: work
Many of us lost vital emotional outlets--disconnecting from each other for the greater good has been just as detrimental (personally) as it has been beneficial (communally). It wasn’t easy and it certainly isn’t getting any easier. We just might be getting used to it, a little better at hiding our deepest despairs from ourselves. This is a troubling reality, but it’s one reason why I decided this month’s theme should be “coping,” because it seems as if now we must cope with our coping mechanisms if that makes sense…
september: work
What did you learn from your childhood about being a member of a community? Not in words, but in actions. How did you see people being treated? The written rules and lived experiences gave me contradicting ideals as I sat in pews, hearing moms critique the way that other families dressed for church. It is now my work to tap into my instincts and trust myself enough to build communities that function differently than the hypocrisy of the most readily available communal-model I had: a white-washed Catholic school running on oil money.
july work
The process is the work. There’s no way around it except to do it, to spiral into it. The work is to not only let it unfold in front of you, but also to step into the flow with it, building a relationship with the processes of your life.
june work
What’s next and how has your isolation informed this prediction, expectation, or perspective?
may work
What I’m finding with control is that after we can accept how little of it we actually have, the work is ultimately discovering when to push and when to pull or when to relax and float along with the ebb and flow of it all.
april work
don’t wait. work with, through, or against the tension of 2020 now.
