06/22/2026
when you check out completely for weeks.
immerse yourself in real books for whole days.
in pulling every w**d in every garden.
in spontaneous curator invites to gallery discussions of real ideas.
in sunset drives down long and tunneled dirt river roads.
in long unanswered uninterrupted silences.
in hard wind and hot sun on the parts of your body that never feel those freedoms.
in capacious cavernous silent lonely work spaces with magical acoustics ideal for intricate vocal harmonies and immense flat tables to hold all the work you haven’t seen in a whole year. all at once.
when you call in the rewilding of your own spirit.
the loosening of binds. the departing
of expectations and the freedom of flow.
accidentally allowing for severely socially inappropriate and uncomfortable exorcisms of demons so old and so deep - that their departure resonates loud and ugly in your own head - so loud that it will continue to reverberate … to send waves of freedom and liberation into the future …
and empathy into the past for the for the self that was. that child who held it ALL.
for so long.
when the river continues to call. continues to echo and repeat the same set of words into my land locked place: i will help you if you let me. (i’m REALLY not sure what she’s going to help me to do. but if water is speaking directly to me … it cannot be of small importance. and it will have the unstoppable force of water. drop to trickle to stream … to tsunami.)
when all of that IS.
and then.
when the re.emergence is to public joys like ’ celebrations of motions denied and the opening of the Obama Center… and the coming of Robin Van Wageningen ’s Where We Roam exhibition…
when all of that IS.
maybe I will be able to hold on.
to grab the moral arc with you.
to continue to push. and to know in which direction to do so.
