Tag: writing
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Keep swinging back and forth like trees on windy days!
For trees, storms are a matter of life and death. Peter Wohlleben, the New York Times author of the book ‘The Hidden Life of Trees’ briefly stated why in his beautiful book. Winds blowing 60 miles an hour can uproot a tree, pummeling mature trunks to nothingness with forces equivalent to 220 tons. Trees that…
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Keep love and being together!
Love was in the walls and headboards. It triumphed beneath the floors where feet’s stomped and jumped to the sounds of Amen and Hallelujah. It was also in the faces of everyone who came to hold on to it longer. From as far as the US and her hometown Nimo, to as near as her…
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Keep creativity whether with life or death!
At the heart of our mystery as women is creativity. We literally give birth to new beings, new life. We finds ways to birth other things too, like writing for me lately or jewelry making, a reoccurring hobby of mine. To be able to make something, is to live life to the fullest, to live…
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Keep the presence of an absence like a drumbeat that never ends!
The end of life always comes with a unique aesthetic stamp. It’s almost always alien to the natural parts of living. Almost always strange to experience this presence of a finite absence. To mourn this sense of loss for someone I loved dearly. To even expect this end giving the outcome is so debilitating. Woven…
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Keep Osodieme or following Chizoba!
One of the earliest gifts I received from my sister-in law was a purple scarf with a light pink intricate embroidery. I caught sight of it this morning while looking for clothes from an old pile for my baby. It glistened in the clear plastic bag full of clothes we dry cleaned following our water…
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Keep creating art and words for life!
I have been excavating other ways of being lately. Other ways of being together too. Other ways to imagine interior lives seldom shared. This unending murmur is part of the noise I narrate. Of motherhood, for example, for mother’s that are black, mothers in academia, mothers with little children, mothers finding themselves still, while being…
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Keep Dahlias in mind for mother’s and their journey!
Dahlias are intense flowers like mother. A league on their own, each petal is a colorful ray, of doubled flowers, in yellow or purple-ray florets, whites, ivories, and scarlet rays too. All in multiple whorls of ray flowers, all forming circles, forming clusters, forming bunches so compact, that it can only be described as motherhood.…
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Keep the ‘public’ in public health!
Last week the U.S Surgeon General issued an advisory that declared ‘misinformation as a public health threat.’ In a blue document with massive bold letters in white, he argued that we need to begin the process of confronting misinformation by ‘building a healthy information environment.’ I was intrigued and kept scrolling down the document to…
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Keep giving yourself away to God!
My life is not my own. So I give myself away so you can use me. This song by William McDowell is my keep as I start this week. This is the week where I learn whether it’s time or not for God’s plans to be fulfilled in his child. So if God then is…
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Keep looking as you gift yourself the power to say no!
We come home to ourselves. Our realized desiring selves. We also come home to spaces that are loving, spaces that are giving, spaces that are nurturing, spaces full of awareness, spaces that enable looking. Of all these spaces, looking is my keep for today. Bell Hooks once described a power in looking. A power also…
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Keep your outer spaces as I stride in other spaces.
I said what the f…k today. I rarely curse and not in writing. I get it. Space matters. So does money. Being rich is a privilege. And yes you have the right to spend your hard earned money however you like. So I woke up cheering for you, cheering for your blue origins, cheering for…
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Keep stories of mothers, airplanes, and children!
On nights we make believe, I tell the story of the old lady who lived in a shoe. It’s a short story and my kids seem to like my many take on the lady. Like why a shoe, or why so many children? Why even feed them one by one? Why didn’t she even know…
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Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor 