Saturday, 7 March 2015


I am sitting on a stunning wool carpet, and looking every so often out the window, at a woods with naked trees, and soft white snow. I am once again in Ontario. Ottawa. The part of the country where justice is talked about, negotiated, laws written, winced at, winked at, believed. Broken. Birthed. And where I yearn to engage ever-further in how justice as a lived and living experience is a twinned-sibling of literature, art, pain/t, poetry,  passion, love, loss, and life's ever-present call out to us to thrive. My time in theology school was as if a tsunami of talk to and from my soul about the fact that to survive is but a pale relation of thriving. Seeking Circle Reconciliation for Conflict was too new, for now.  "God/de works in Mysterious ways." Respect; Responsibility; Relationship: Restorative Justice's framing mantras within the Crucible of Sawbonna, means to trust all that happens, even when it draws from us vs. them. Trust is surrender. Trust does not mean acceptance of incongruities or dismissal or being expelled. Trust means that Life speaks Her voicing, in Co-Creative clarity, and we are allowed to be the very change we wish to see. Delighting in our voices, choices, shared in kinship. With Love. Via Grace. In Communitas.
     I am reading, Still Alice. Alzheimer's is Alice's engagement with life, at the age of fifty. In moments I am terrified about "my" life. I can barely breathe as I read of her decline. No longer able to use words. No longer able to know. But what is it that we know? We know systems, rules, regulations, ways to eat, and where to live, clothing, for warmth and coolness. I yearn for creative fire and desire and a passion that means I must fly. And in I fling myself. My very flight into and because of the one and only wound we all share: that we will die. That knowing this, is the healing. The healing that tells us that to be hale is not to step away from or be afraid of our fears. Is not to step only into and because of safety. No. To be hale, whole, holy-crucibles of life's calling out, is to reach out, reach in. In and with community. To love. To be loved. And to be in the only walk that beckons. That walk is the now. The now contoured in creativity's song, sigh, and raw-fierce screaming. I howl now. Howl. Ravenous RavenSpeaking. Seeking. Being sought. What will I find in London? What will I eat? And I am starved. Again. The Trees know. A Sawbonna film. A new script. An old story. Ancient rubble of bones. And life wills only Life. I unearth. Am unearthed. Resurrected. Again. Sawbonna: I see you. And your story matters. Our stories matter.


  1. Thanks for your thoughtful language, such as God/de, and all the ways you open a new world using ordinary words...

    1. To re-language God/de in meaning-FULL ways is a practice which invites us to continue to challenge persistent paradigms of how we word our ways into our everyday, Brenda. And, indeed, the ordinary words compel us to re-visit them, with gusto, in Co-Creative fervor for and with and because of Womyns' passion, fierceness, fire, and undiluted clarity about SHE who is, and SHE who changes: HERself and us. Thank you for your comment.