Bless the Black Turtleneck

“The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” Romans 8:26 I notice the black turtleneck as we meet. As we sit down, I hear her sigh deeply. She looks at me, eyes searching. Neither…

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Come Home to Your Feminine

Walking down the street in Portland, I was nervous, excited, and unsure about what to expect. Six weeks earlier, I had found the book Wild Feminine by Tami Lynn Kent. It had stopped me in my tracks and helped me to take the path less traveled. Now, I was in Portland waiting for my appointment…

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Examining the Archetype

“The Woman in Red” can mean many things in our culture. She can be the woman that bears the shame of cultural stigmatization that comes with being female and feminine. The biologically associated monthly “red” cycle that reminds her that she is female. This cycle at various points in history was so stigmatized that some…

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I Follow Tears

I follow tears.  Glistening eyes, quivering lips, red rising on cheeks. Clues on a path to story. A big, black circle on the map to the heart. 

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Playing With Tears

*The following post is from a sexual abuse survivor and may contain elements that could feel triggering. It has been three years.  My body feels heavy, my pulse throbs in my neck. The memory, so violent and traumatic. My mind has begun to recover but my body has been slower to follow. During an EMDR…

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On Cows and Childbearing

My husband is a rancher, and we met later in life after I’d had my own children. Being a ranch wife has yielded insights I never expected. One of the stark realizations of my status as a human female has been through the observation of cows. Cows on a ranch have an economic value based…

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I Am My Own

“I am not chewed up, spat out bubblegum” I am not fine china chipped by his touch now sitting on the thrift store shelf. I am not a porcelain tea cup filled with saliva from mouths of boys for whom I willingly opened my legs. I am not plucked petals of a rose trampled by…

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Calling Ourselves Home

I was sitting in a room full of men. Okay, this isn’t that rare, but I was taken aback at how uneasy I felt in the moment. In between some semi-offensive comments made by one man, and other talk that I couldn’t participate in, I realized that I had shrunk–I began taking up less and…

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Jab, Cross, Hook

The smell of dust and sweat and leather fills the room. Punching bags hang in precise rows, immovable in the presence of industrial fans and re-mixed 90s hip hop. “I’m gonna knock you out; Momma said knock you out!” I slowly wrap my hands and wrists, weaving the fabric between each finger, stabilizing each moving part…

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The Ability to See

Only art penetrates the seeming realities of this world. There is another reality, the genuine one, which we lose sight of. This other reality is always sending us hints, which without art, we can’t receive. – Saul Bellow During my freshman year of college, I decide to register for a drawing class. We meet every…

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