Blog

August 24th, 2024

Waiting in a still place…

Some months just seem to drag, don’t they? When I was a kid, August was always too fast. The return to school seemed to rush into the end of summer like a wrecking ball. But in this work, August plods along like it has all the time in the world. Everyone is busy cramming the last of their vacations in before the responsibilities of autumn hit. Needless to say, work’s been slow and I’ve been trying not to stress.

But a friend has offered to vouch for me so I can get on TOB finally, and that should help pick things up! Being in this field has taught me how to ride the waves of abundance and stillness with grace and patience. I know you’re out there, Mysterious Reader. I must trust that you’ll find my touch when it’s your time, and not a moment before.

Until then, I’ll wait for you. My heart will simmer in a cool, silent cove. All the pleasure and relaxation of my inner cenote rests so still, waiting for you, Mysterious Reader, to finally return to me (or find me for the first time) to dip your tired, well-worked body in my pool. Don’t wait too long…

I’m not myself without you

I need you under my touch, under my weight

I need to rest my soul in the palm of your hand, for a moment

I need you to give me your warmth from below, that submerged place

where you’re most vulnerable

where I can keep you safe

-F.K.

July 21, 2024

Who even blogs these days anyway…

Well, here I am, exploring the interwebs (and my work…) in new ways. Braver ways. I feel a little awkward and clumsy here, typing out my thoughts for the entire web void to consume. But someone smart told me that a blog will help my clients get to know me, to “hear” my personality better. They told me you would be here to catch my words in your own little net, Mysterious Reader. Are you?

I’ve been working hard on my online presence lately. Yesterday, I went back through my old grad school-era Twitter account and deleted almost everything, remaking it into an account for Farrah to express herself. How surprised and happy I was to find her already there, her voice ever simmering somewhere within me. It felt nostalgic and a little melancholy to see all the books I was reading back then. How enmeshed I was in academia. There’s so much about it I don’t miss…but still there’s plenty to grieve.

If my death studies have taught me anything, it’s that grief shows us who we are through what (and who) we love. And just as Farrah has been waiting within me, coiled in all her power and beauty, the little nerdy schoolgirl who loved Joyce and Angela Carter and Levinas lives in me yet. What a surprise to rediscover her through Farrah. What a gift.

And what about you, Mysterious Reader? Who do you crave to rediscover within yourself? A part of you that’s been tucked away, or forgotten, or shunned? Would they like a little poem for their lonely pocket?

we all send our hearts out into the dark

we give them a jacket, a snack, a well-worn word of love and bravery

we teach them what we know of the wide, bellowing world

we hope they’ll return to us changed

we hope we’ll still recognize them

-F.K.