If Wild Is Free

I have a black-and-white photo of my grandmother from the 1940s that I treasure. She’s dressed in pants and a flannel, kneeling in the grasses of an Oklahoma prairie, focused on something ahead. Balanced on her shoulder is a rifle of some sort. Her hair is short and curled, messy from the breeze. And though…

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You. Are. Here.

Yep, here I am. Rockin’ my routine within the cozy confines of my comfort zone. I am not adventurous. I have a deep appreciation for structure and the beauty of things remaining the same. Uniformity. Straight Lines. Symmetry. I’ve got everything lined up in perfect rows just like I like it. When everything is as…

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The Sweet Beginning

What felt like the bitter end was really the sweet beginning.  The sweet beginning to a new life. The bitter end to oppression. The bitter end to patterned, repeated, intentional, and willful systematic oppression. The sweet beginning to freedom from suppression and systemic fear.

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