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.
a new myth
The day the colonizers came, when they looked upon our people it was like staring into the sun. They were so bright. So alive. So gifted. It was painful. The presence of such brilliance was intolerable to these men. It scorched their skin and illuminated their wounds festering with hate, violence and greed.
being you is a practice
Identifying with the practice frees us from identifying with the outcomes. Practice is all the permission we need to do that thing.