In the Flood
In the Flood
“And so, the water holds what we can no longer touch.” —Alexis Pauline Gumbs
Dear relatives,
This week has been the sort that has required fits and starts to almost everything I endeavor. It’s been frustrating to move at what feels like a glacial pace. Sometimes, I feel triggered by the tempo. But when I come back into my body, I remember that glaciers are melting, which is to say, they are speeding up.
Recently, I read an article about what causes glacial ice loss and learned that there are numerous factors at play. Large bodies of ice, like glaciers and ice sheets, are affected by warming air and water temperatures, land and sea terrain, and their own meltwater. This, in a sense, sounds like a pattern of compression. In the case of our glacial elders, where heat enters at all possible angles, at both poles, what is left in the flood?
In this week’s reading of A Darker Wilderness: Black Nature Writing from Soil to Stars, by Erin Sharkey, we are introduced to a beautiful chorus of Black nature writers, many of whom enjoy multiple titles including doctor, farmer, artist, professor, scholar, and abolitionist. The essays in this collection are deeply connected to place, and through intimate storytelling, each author offers rich context to the meaning of ‘nature’, or what nature can mean, especially to black people, and people of color.
One essay by Alexis Pauline Gumbs, in particular, resonated with me. “Water and Stone: A Ceremony for Audre Lorde in Three Parts,” crisscrosses through time and utilizes place, artifacts, and memory as conduits for connection between Lorde and the author. Gumbs also helps to name Lorde as pivotal to the history of nature writing, stating that, “Audre Lorde doesn’t bring mere observation to nature; she brings queer Black desire.”
This month and next, I will be facilitating two breathwork gatherings, where I will attempt to weave in the work of both Lorde and Gumbs. The groups will vary in size and time of day. The weather will be colder and the days will feel shorter with less sunlight. Some of us will be hunkering down for fall, and others will be gearing up for spring. There is always an interplay between things. Gumbs speaks to this interplay, or relationship, throughout the essay, especially in how she describes the role that nature played in Lorde’s writing and life, much of which was spent in New York City. “Lorde had to imagine speculative landscapes beyond her knowing as she chased after her mother’s desire to return to a home that remained out of reach.” Even through the cracks in concrete, flowers will bloom.
How many thresholds do we encounter in a day? The early morning light beaming soft, then strong; a chance meeting that makes a new path; stopping to pause just before a deep breath.
Being a mother is a particular type of threshold. “My mother was my first country, the first place I ever lived,” as poet Nayyirah Waheed witnesses. As a daughter and a mother, I can attest to this. I feel the ocean of my mother in my blood and the geography of my child in my bones; both simultaneously alive and breathing within me.
I circle back to the body, the melting glaciers, and time. As the ice melts, so do we; spilling out over everyone and everything. Perhaps, you are like me and wonder about all the rock, stone, and sediment. Where does it all go? What story is revealed through the materials? What does the path say about the relationships formed or dissolved? What lessons do these large and changing bodies have for those of us in the wake?
This week, dear relatives, let me know in the comments what thresholds you encounter in your daily life—is there common ground among them?
With gratitude,
Christian
Practice Opportunity
We are just under a week out from the virtual Fall Embodiment Workshop! I am excited to be in practice with folks through breathwork, acupressure, and reflective journaling. This workshop is suitable for all levels of experience and is open to anyone interested in exploring their connection with the natural world. There is still plenty of time to join if you are feeling called. You can register and learn more here.
Listening | Reading | Creating
I’ve loved the work of Afro-Indigenous (Shinnecok) photographer Camille Seaman for a while now, and have been thoroughly enjoying her YouTube channel. In one of my favorite videos, Seaman discusses the philosophy of “making” versus “taking” photographs. This week I am reading “Ancestral Structures on the Trailing Edge”, by Lauret E. Savoy, in preparation for next week’s letter. Some of my time has been spent putting together a database of embodiment resources that I hope to share soon!