healing
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in group the other day, we were doing this mindfulness practice — focusing on an object or scene, really letting yourself see it, the texture, the light, and edges. the quiet stuff your brain skips past most days. someone pointed out a single cloud moving past the window. we all looked. then a man, maybe…
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I read this in a book I checked out of the library: out of all the stations on the New York City Subway, 275 are fully underground. that’s 59%. add a couple more percent and you get 61% riding beneath the surface. the rest — elevated, embanked, open-cut — see sky. but most of us…
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right now, my guitar is just a few steps away, but it might as well be 10,000 miles. there’s a distance between us that’s hard to explain — a space that feels impossible to cross. depression (in my case, a co-occurring mental disorder) has a way of making everything feel slow, like the world keeps…
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abuelita aka the Notorious ABU (she doesn’t like it when I call her that) invited her friend Spiridoula K from Queens (aka tía SK) over for dinner last night. tía SK brought delicious homemade Greek pastries and an album of black and white photographs from when she was a little girl. I call her tía…
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in group we tell each other you can’t recover if you don’t know what you’re recovering from. I don’t know exactly what I am recovering from. hurt, maybe? hurt is almost always telling me a truth. all this week I was thinking about the times I stood on the toilet seat holding the stall door…
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I never know exactly what poets and lyricists mean when they refer to an angel. often they’re writing about someone they’re just really into, and sometimes an angel in Heaven’s Holy Host. sometimes we call someone an angel to affirm the light in that person. I like this designation: that somebody not apart from life on this earth can bring you a light, sweep air…
cookie nieves 