l write the corporeal, the sacred and profane of this human experience. I write about medical anthropology and the wandering womb, secular humanism and ethics, creating a culture of consent, a novel I refuse to speak of aloud, legion hearts and the mystery none of us can ever really know so we just keep threading words together into ink and paper arrows, hoping they will somehow light up like neon, illuminating the broken and beautiful. I am interested in the stories we are socially and culturally told we are not allowed to speak or know or claim as our own belonging, and the transgressive act of centering such narratives in both discourse and art.
(For a long time I only wrote in my head: while riding the el through the city, and at night, sitting on a bar stool, or tending to my house plants. I no longer have the houseplants, but I do write the words down now. I think it’s a fair trade.)
My writing has been published in print and on line, including Ars Medica, Bellevue Literary Review, Calyx, elephant journal, Tattooed Buddha, Annapurna Living, Brain Child Magazine, Soul Growth Radio, Body and Soul: Narratives of Healing.
And I am the author of Salt + Honey: secular prayers to the human and hedonistic hearts.
I sometimes write HERE.
I also make art of cartography and large wings.
I mentor writers and creators one and one and facilitate workshops and classes for those who want to write and create unapologetically,
who believe the personal is political, and who know they have a story only they can tell.
I work one one one artists, writers, and creators of all kinds. For those who are grappling with myth and meaning, rough housing with words and seeking to unearth the sound of their own voice. For those who want sanctuary, a safe space, to wander deep into the why of their creating, to ask questions of where the words and vision and uprising wants to take you. Those who feel the doubt and the desire, how sometimes it is a tangled thing to know what we will create and release into the world, because life herself is messy and so are we. What will I do with the shadows of my own stories, and the glory, with the part of me that wants to write the body true, in all its profane pleasure and knotted knowing? Where does my resistance live, and how does it inform my art? Together, we enter into Sanctuary, an hour at time. We explore. We excavate. We ask questions. We listen. We walk through your words one by one. Or we enter into the unknowns and see what sits there in the silent spaces, asking us to not look away.