Lou referred to me as Star Bean on Instagram, and it is now the only nickname I respond to. The hurt never leaves. Medicine becomes more accessible, and the will to live — more deeply situated in resilience.
Developing a practice of asking for support has given me greater access to my needs being met, and healthily curbs expectation. I hardly ever enter spaces of expected care due to the fact that my needs are already met because I asked for what I needed. This practice creates less strain on my relationships, and allows deeper trust between myself and the people I love.
Relationally, I am the healthiest I have ever been and even still, I internalize, project, think mean thoughts about people I love, judge, and feel pings of fear when called into deeper accountability. For me, it is not about never doing harm — it is about feeling into my body when harm is happening, being open to correction, choosing grooves that align with my values when I fall out of alignment, and crying about it all. I cry a lot. More than I did as a child, and I actually really love it. Crying as much as I do over big things and little things makes my conversation with life so much juicier.
LIST OF THINGS MAKING LIFE JUICIER:
My dearest friend and collaborator, JJ McDonald, is building a world of deep engagement via their transmedia art & lifestyle blog on Patreon!
I was accepted to The Deep Play Institute’s Growing Edges in Relational Practice program at Rochester Folk Art Guild.
5 thoughtful reflective pieces on Dreaming Care into Being at Dia Chelsea.
This new ELSZ track is a really freaking good tender cry song.
My friends designed an amazing application called Somewhere Good.
My sex, friendship, relationality, and intimacy experiences have been rooted in mutual desire, debriefs and communication, and a genuine need for human connection void of a lack of presence — rooted in people before pleasure, friendship, and queer futures. Right now, I am coliving with a friend of 15 years in my 1-bedroom apartment, and it has been a deep reminder of how much existential calm and joy it brings me to live with someone who gels into the fabric of reciprocity most aligned with my coliving needs — a present queer future indeed. She remembers to put her shoes on the shoe rack and bags and jackets on the coat rack so Charlie does not chew up her stuff. She collaborates with me on cleaning and cooking in a way where the labor feels exactly equitable. We make the bed together. She checks in about my comfort levels and boundaries regarding the space. I feel swept off my feet, at ease, and deep grasp of what it takes for emotionally safe coliving. I am coming to head with my trauma around coliving and my deep desire for family. These two areas inform each other, and while trauma makes most coliving situations inaccessible to me, it also makes known what is accessible, and meets my family desires in softness and acceptance.
I was violently accosted at Prospect Park off-leash hours (dog heaven) this morning, and it will be the rest of this lifetime I spend processing the disdain, hatred, and violence Black people are subjected to on a relentless basis. None of my white friends have checked on me regarding the murder of Black individuals in Buffalo. I wonder how many of them are subscribed to my newsletter and will reach out to absolve themselves of guilt after reading this. I have an 8-month old biracial nephew, and he is already exhibiting signs of unconscious bias. Racism in Retrograde, it is not always on purpose — though it is the most palpable intangible experience I endure in this Black body.
Of the 51 of you subscribed to this newsletter, 5 of you pay me to pour my heart out every week, and that means something. You will not receive a newsletter next week because I will be on vacation.
Take deep good care, xoxo—care ecologist <3