what the bones know
healing, Knowing, practice, liberation Kelsey Blackwell healing, Knowing, practice, liberation Kelsey Blackwell

what the bones know

The majority of our ancestors (regardless of how your body is racialized today) lived in reverence to the more than human world. We all come from people who engaged in ritual practices; whose somatic intelligence was intact as they moved their bodies, told stories and sang around a communal fire. Our ancestors trusted the unseen and honored these spirits, protectors, gods, goddesses, and mischief-makers.

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finding wisdom in what aches
practice, self care, liberation, Knowing Kelsey Blackwell practice, self care, liberation, Knowing Kelsey Blackwell

finding wisdom in what aches

My knee is tired. This simple truth lands in my chest like the thud of the old-school yellow pages on a hard desk. There's a heaviness here I've been dutifully avoiding. My knee is tired. It's tired of running, tired of pushing, tired of jumping, tired twisting and bending, tired of extending beyond itself to get just ... a little ... further.

And when I hear my knee, when I can really let these words in, I get it. Yeah knee, I'm fucking tired too.

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why i care
embodiment, grief, liberation, somatics, Knowing, courage Kelsey Blackwell embodiment, grief, liberation, somatics, Knowing, courage Kelsey Blackwell

why i care

I believe your body holds wisdom that is essential for creating the world we all deserve to live in – you know, where no one must hustle or compete to meet their basic needs, where all bodies are deemed valuable and every being has ample space for rest and ease. My intention is not that this sounds like a lot of pressure, but I do get it if holding such power makes you feel a little anxious.

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joy comes first
capitalism, liberation, healing Kelsey Blackwell capitalism, liberation, healing Kelsey Blackwell

joy comes first

Do you remember the fable of the Grasshopper and the Ants?

As a child, I watched this story over and over shuddering at the foolishness of the Grasshopper. My 5-year old self promised to never be like him. I would always be a hard worker. Otherwise, the risk was clear: starvation, exile and death. That wouldn’t be my reality.

As I’ve looked back on this memory I’ve wondered, is this where I first learned the importance of hard work? Is this where I learned to distance myself from my joy?

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