how healing feels poem

how healing feels poem filtered

Poem that arose from me in response to the deeply moving documentary (In)Visible Portraits. 

seas of love and melanin

Please see Lissa’s companion piece “care as a form of loving rebellion against anti-blackness.”

Collective Care Resources ~ COVID-19

luke-richardson-OJo6TXpFGiY-unsplashphoto: @lukealrich

As I practice, I feel a sense of love amidst all of the other feelings that arise and pass. Love for you. Love for community.

Knowing all the varying experiences, the challenges, the collective is going through, so much love and care arises for you through my practice.

As we care for ourselves however that looks or feels like (as some have greater access to resources than others), know that we are taking care of each other. Know that you are not alone. 💛🙏🏾✨

Please see my regularly updated list of resources for coping with COVID-19 here.

with love,


IMG_7312photo: wisdom by @minaa_b

Pleasure as a Form of Care and Justice (from

This is an excerpt from a piece by Lissa which you can read in full here.
abundant tree
photo by @jeremybishop

What happens when we as a collective center pleasure as a form of care, justice and liberation?
I have been exploring this concept in my life and also in my offerings particularly InterPlay, deeply guided by the work of  adrienne maree brown and her book  Pleasure Activism.

I have found Pleasure Activism to be an incredibly powerful approach to healing that not only affects the individuals engaging in the practice but all of those who in turn come in contact with them. Pleasure, compassion, and care intersect with each other and promote a more just society where we have the agency and capacity to care for ourselves and each other.

It gives me great hope that I can center pleasure as not only a practice that allows for well-being but as a loving form of rebellion against oppression, a form of individual and collective perseverance and strength for me and so many others in my communities and my ancestral lineage…

Read the rest here. I plan to post on every Friday sharing new content as well as updated versions of old posts from this site.

If you are interested in learning more about my offerings and writings, please also consider subscribing to my quarterly newsletter.


imagine freedom #3

an updated version of an old dear poem of mine, which was inspired by this painting by  rick mobbs as well as the poetry of Maya Angelou.

inhale golden burgundy peace. exhale grey lavender grief. kiss me until joy travels through every orifice of your body, cooling the fires in the growing oceans surrounding us.

. ……… . …… ………………………………. .

imagine us together forever. tuck yourself under the shade of the chocolate tree in our imagination. carve our initials s and e into the trunk with strawberry juice. lay with me against the soil until dawn.

i stroke you until the whip lashes tattooed into your brown skin shimmer like stars. you become so alive that you relearn how to feel and tears of happiness stream down your face as my laugh — slow crescendo of love tickles your cheeks. i see the anatomy of a rainbow in your eyes.

just before nightfall, you point into the distance. tremors overcome our bodies as we see us in a future dreamland — happy and free with our children by our side. we wake during the night surrounded by the remnants of the harmony of their beings; they soothe us back to sleep.

. ……… . …… ………………………………. .

when morning comes and master finds us, we repeat maya’s words we rise, from a past rooted in pain, we rise, black ocean, leaping and wide, welling and swelling, bearing in the tide…we rise, bringing the ancestors’ gifts, the dreams and hopes of slaves, we rise, we rise, we rise.”  we are not afraid because we know that i am the sun and you are the earth. our story is without end.


. ……… . …… ………………………………. .

. ……… . …… ………………………………. .

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Protected: learn when to leave the table

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Protected: Nine months & counting since her death

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Protected: shining light into the darkness

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our loving ancestors

3-gogo-and-the-ancestors-marietjie-henningphoto by marietjie hemming

I like to think our ancestors are rooting us on through life.

There’s a mindfulness practice at Blue Cliff Monastery called touching the earth where we place our palms in front of our chests in the shape of a lotus bud and slowly lower ourselves to the ground so that our four limbs and forehead gently press against the floor. We bow deeply and return to the earth and our roots, connecting with our spiritual and blood ancestors. We know that we can never be alone as we are always surrounded by love, by divine beings who only want the best for us, by the earth. We touch the earth and reconnect with each bow to all of that life and recognize that we make up the earth and life and can never be separate. We are all connected.

Breathing in, I breathe in the earth. I breathe in connection. I breathe in life, strength, stability, love, nurturing, protection. Breathing out, I breathe out separation. I breathe out suffering. I breathe out anger, fear, shame, sorrow, grief.

I wonder if each time we engage in a healing practice like meditation or yoga, are we touching our ancestors? In engaging in the practice and connecting deeper with ourselves or transforming an area of suffering, are we also lessening the suffering in that whole ancestry chain? If we release a story steeped in limitation and inadequacy that we used to cling to, do we release suffering in our whole ancestry line? Is our growth a shining light of hope and pride to them?



background image by carolyn doe

Believing our thoughts


We have so many thoughts each minute, each day, each lifetime. Some believe we have 50,000 thoughts in a day so that would be over 18 million thoughts in a year — far too many thoughts to hear and remember. So what determines the thoughts we believe and cling to and the ones that never catch hold and quickly disappear? It’s more often than not a choice. I want to carefully choose the thoughts I listen to for they create my reality.