Lately I’ve been sitting with grief again not only in the loss of loved ones, but in the many endings life asks us to face.
There are teachers that walk on two legs, and there are teachers that stand rooted in silence.
There are teachers that walk on two legs, and there are teachers that stand rooted in silence.
Every human being is born between two great rivers: the river of the mother, and the river of the father.
The Lover is not only about romance. She is the pulse of eros itself the life-force that longs for union.
The wounded child is not an error in the system. She is the compass.
How the soil of my childhood once marked by abuse has become the ground where others now come to heal.
But the greater cost is carried by the body, the soul, and the generations that follow. This is what happened when I finally chose to break the pattern.
There’s a version of my life I used to present to the world. I had a degree. A house. A good job. I ticked all the boxes that were meant to mean “you’re doing well.” But behind closed doors, I was drowning.