I watch my breath, my frame. I think worldwide of people hungry in the mud faces in cages heartbeats dead families capsizing in escape. When I was young, hearing my first tragic events, my response was massive guilt and shame. I had it okay while lives cracked apart across the world, in my neighborhood. And then I hurt myself. And got addicted to hurting myself. Now, here, globally, in this country, cruelty happens daily. I am healthy. I have enough. More than enough. I want to help. Instead of saying, they suffer so I must suffer, I want to say I am at peace, how can they be at peace? Instead of my limbs paralyzed, instead of acting against myself, I can reach out and take care of me and thereby reach out stronger. I don't have a lot. I have enough. I can be here for you. I can sit in the same room as you. I can listen to your story. Open up the world for you. Help you tell your story. Get people to listen. Or try. Bring communities together. Try. I sometimes feel so young. I doubled my gray hair the last ten weeks. Still breathe, still be. And reach. Open. Continue to open.
0 Comments
|
Heidi KraayProcess notes on a work in progress. This page serves to invite you into the way I work, with intermittent posts to show you the hows and whys on the whats I make, as well as prompts and ideas I bring to certain workshops. There will also be some raw, rough content found in notebooks written years ago, previously posted on: Archives
March 2021
Categories
|