Exploring Transformation, Connection, and the Stories We Live By
Enough: Lifestyle Cannot Fix This
Sunlight and stair masters are being thrown at people trying to survive the hellscape of late-stage capitalism and corporate-run governments. But the root cause of our suffering isn’t that we don’t know how to get sunlight. It’s that we’re re living inside systems built on poverty, violence, housing insecurity, toxic food, soulless jobs, and environmental collapse. We don’t need more prescriptions for personal discipline. We need systems of care.
When Faith Becomes a Death Cult
I was taught that suffering was holy, that refusing medical care was an act of faith, that death was not an end but a passage. When I lay in a hospital bed, weak from blood loss, I wasn’t thinking about survival, I was thinking about obedience. This is how power works. It does not always come with force; sometimes, it comes with quiet, relentless conditioning. They make you believe that survival is secondary to submission.
It Was Never About Our Neighbors
Medicaid is more than healthcare, its part of the thread in the fragile web that holds us all together. When they cut it, they’ll be severing the connections that keep people alive. They tell us that survival should be earned, that only the “deserving” should receive care, but this is a lie designed to keep us isolated. The truth is, no one survives alone. We are interconnected, bound together like the roots of a forest, like the filaments of a spiderweb. When the web breaks, it won’t just be the most vulnerable who fall, it will be all of us.
A Rhizomatic Exploration of Interconnectedness
"Who even are we? We are the wolf and the woman, both hunted and haunted, both feared and revered. We are sculpted by microbes within and the stars above, shaped by winds, viral vectors, and geological forces beyond our control. Each of these agents—viral, microbial, geological, meteorological—are actors in our existence. They do not simply change us; they become us. They are us.
When Things Come All The Way Undone
What does it mean when everything comes undone? When light, time, and memory shift in ways that feel unnatural? When grief makes the familiar suddenly unfamiliar? This poem lingers in that space, in the way small things, like the slant of afternoon light, hold echoes of loss, longing, and the quiet hope of trying again.
Meaning Making through Ordinary Magic
Chokecherries are more than just berries. They are memory, inheritance, spellwork, and sustenance. In my hands, they are a connection to my mother, my daughter, and the women who came before us—woven into the fabric of our lives, marking the passage of seasons. This is not just a story of harvesting; it is a story of belonging, of lineage. Walk alongside me through scratches and steam, stories and seasons, discovering how small rituals and quiet moments can hold us together when life feels like it’s unraveling.
Notes from the Edges of Everything: On women’s descent into the dark 3/7/24
Magic is the hum beneath everything. It is the goddess-stuff that calls us to more. It is not only in the light but in the chaos, in the underworld, in the moments when all feels lost. This is where transformation is born. Like Inanna, Persephone, and the Selkie Wife, we are never meant to navigate the descent alone. We hold the torch for one another. We excavate the ruins together.
A Story in Two Parts: Two. Glacier National Park
Glacier National Park is a landscape not only sublime but also contested. It’s a place shaped by history, marked by displacement, and layered with the stories of the Blackfeet and other Indigenous peoples who lived, prayed, and hunted here. Walk with me through McGee Meadow and the Huckleberry Lookout Trail to explore wildness, memory, and belonging.
A Story in Two Parts: One. The Arboretum
What is the difference between wild and tame? This article considers the way that spaces like an Arboretum provide both access to nature and a reminder that even cultivated landscapes can hold traces of wildness, inviting us to slow down, listen, and be present with the natural world.
What is a Rhizome?
Life is complex, interwoven, and intimately interconnected in ways we can barely grasp. The rhizome offers a way of seeing the world not as fixed and hierarchical but as fluid, tangled, resilient. It is a framework for understanding how ideas, species, pandemics, and revolutions spread, how life forms and reforms, how connections—seen and unseen—shape our realities. In this piece, I explore what it means to embrace this perspective and why it might just hold the key to reimagining our relationships, our struggles, and even our futures.
Echoes of Pine and Stone
I want to bring you to touch soft moss and witness mysterious lichen as they whisper secrets of survival and resilience to pine and stone. I want them to cast their spells of belonging onto your body and into your mind. To enchant you with their knowing. To let you see their being. I want you to hear their stories so that you can move them into the matrix of your bones. Let them shape you with their memories. Let your heart, that wild beating heart of yours, remember.
A Note to Humanity: Reflections on the Illusion of Isolation
Daisies are my heartflower. I search for them everywhere—reminders of resilience in the mundane, proof that beauty isn’t solitary but communal. Once, I knelt before a daisy in the rain, believing myself to be alone. The sky was heavy, the world pared down to shades of black and white, as if grief itself had stripped the color away. But as I looked through my camera lens, it felt she knew she was being seen. And in that moment, I understood: I was not alone either.
Isolation is an illusion. We belong. Not as singular beings, but as multitudes, as part of a vast and living world. This multispecied, impossibly interconnected world is a companion, dissolving loneliness into something older, something wilder, something true.