I resigned myself to being an observer of the living: one who observed half the time and floated away the other half. I wanted to reach out to strangers and ask them to pull me to shore: I wondered if any of them were drifting through life like me. I knew about sound and wondered how to pull it from the parts of me where it had been dormant. I knew that there were screams inside of me that became muffled whispers because I refused to hear them.
A man is flesh, fingernail, bone, dreams. and maybe some grit if he‘s lucky.
But sometimes a man is a door that a woman can walk through to enter a world that she cannot access on her own. Years ago, the snow-kissed skin of a white man could be seen as freedom by a brown woman, not only for herself, but for any children she might have. I wonder if Asu ever saw Papa as a door.
pickThis author is a peloton instructor, and I will admit the first class of his that I took irritated me. I have since come around, though, taking more of his classes, and when I found out he grew up spending part of his childhood in North Carolina, decided to read this book.
I generally don‘t like memoirs, especially first person nonfiction celebrity memoirs, like this one. That being said, it was a fun read, and his life story is inspiring.
pickQuick, easy read that was fun and funny! Great for the beach.
so-soIf you want to ruin your holiday spirit, read this book. Groom gave birth to a son when she was 19. She gave the child to her aunt and uncle to raise. The child then dies of leukemia at 14 months of age. 25 years later she still mourns her son & finally speaks to her aunt & uncle about her son who she was never able to see. The story leaps around, there‘s a great deal of alcohol and men mentioned, and it‘s hard keeping up with her timeline. 3/5
so-soA thin memoir of a huge age-gap (and power gap!) relationship between Ciment and her decades-older former professor. It was my assumption that this book would examine the inappropriate nature of their union. And, while she does acknowledge the difference in age and position, Ciment does not assign blame to her husband. This was melancholic and I it didnt live up the the hype, for me.
I‘m tackling both of these books at the same time & I‘m feeling overwhelmed. Their childhood & early adult years were so tough. Minka‘s mother so absent. Kelle‘s alcoholism & giving her child up for adoption. Both of them needing to find love/protection from men. It all gives me pause to see how fortunate I am. Leaving home at 16, being pregnant at 18, struggling later on with alcohol, and yet somehow I have 4 incredible kids & 5 grandkids 🔽
Hello #SheSaid!
Thoughts for those of you finishing up this week….for those of you that signed up for the mail list, mine is mailing out this week too.
In 2012 I sat among the Mam Indigenous people in Guatemala impacted by mining. We were gathered in the basement of a church for ceremony and I noticed that the colours in the four directions were the same I knew: white for North, red for East, yellow for South, black for West. I smiled at the sight of shared knowledge that made me feel closer to home. They were in a state of active recovery of traditional practices—again, same deal as us.
I turned toward the big scary things looming in the distance and let myself feel them, and to let myself fall apart, trusting that Creator would put me back together again after it had passed. Mama rarely cried or showed fear, and I knew a part of this had to do with her desire to protect us. I couldn‘t follow her down this path. I made a mark in my map, broke the endless loop, and created a new way. #SheSaid
