This arrived in the midst of my OWL Training (comprehensive, accurate, sex ed for K-^)at the Mirror Lake Unitarian Church this weekend. I was sleepy, stuffed with French toast casserole and chapel coffee and so many eager adults asking the OWL facilliators questions about how not to shame a kindergarten who masturbates and what to tell and 10-year-old who asks about being genderqueer. I came home after a 12-hour workshop day and there was this package.
From some mysterious friend. There was no tag or return address, it came wrapped in the New York Times, from Flaming idols--a company that makes devotional candles for the LGBTQ community. Some mysterious someone heard me say that I have been grieving Bowie terribly, that there is a tear in the cosmos now, an eerie parallel universe seam in which some of my life force pours up out of my body in search of him and finds him still, ever-present. And this someone knew me well enough to know why I would want an LGBTQ altar candle
What a gorgeous friend, a wise friend. Was it you?
, where this blog lives now. because it can be read and posted to through that app, one-handed, on my back, by a body of water, or in the cool olive green light above my mattress. This is articulation my spine had not dreamed of before. Tweets by @thebodypoetik
My blog lived on Tumblr for a minute
because it is so much easier to access from my phone. fallinginrealtime.tumblr This is the feed. No, I don't like it. I can't add another virtual box. I'll make due with Twitter.