I wanted to write you a think piece
A cogent reflection on an issue of
Great social import--
What it’s like to be raised in the 
Culture of conspiracy 
Yet my brain is still a bit too scrambled
To weave coherent sentences together
Probably because phrases like
“Deep state” and “high cabal”
Were a regular part of my childhood diet
Long before YouTube was even a thing
But just as toxic voices coming
Through the radio flooded my tender heart
Sometime before my brain broke
Beyond repair
 
I wanted to write you a think piece
But my brain can no longer think straight
Not like anything about me was
Built to be straight-
Perhaps it’s that I am so damn tired
My mind is exhausted 
The heart hurts like my heart has the virus
And my soul can only muster the strength 
To plop down on my couch and cry
The last four years wearied my soul 
On top of the forty years
I’ve spent running from ghosts 
Slaying monsters, dancing with demons 
Or figuring out a way to live with them
Most days it all feels the same 
 
I wanted to write you a think piece
Something that might catch the attention of
Rachel Maddow or NPR
A queer daughter shares her lived experience
Of surviving a conservative existence
Q-Anon pings on our modern radar, yet
A-thru-P were quite the torture too
The father who exposed me had such a
Questionable relationship with the truth,
With consistency, with decency, and yes
Even with the Mighty God he claimed to serve
Yet when you’re a spirited little girl
You believe in him
And that his goodness will prevail
Not his delusions 
 
I wanted to write you a think piece
Full of big words to help you understand
And yet I only have big feelings 
That still make an accomplished person
Unsure of who she can really trust
Uncertain of what is fantasy and what is real
Unclear if the avoidant lovers who are a 
Staple in her life truly mean what they say
About my love, my body, my light
Or if they are just like him
Afraid of my light 
Too afraid to let it work 
Her transformative powers
My light works that magic for so many
So why do I still feel so cold in my own bed?
 
I wanted to write you a think piece 
About how the fire in my belly 
Led me to the Capitol to make sure
That the King of my father’s own image 
Was indeed knocked off his throne  
I got to tell one of his disciples
That he sounded like an abuser
And that I could no longer communicate
With such a person for whom the Truth
Clearly means something so different
Their vision of a great America is no
America in which I want to live 
So how am I supposed to live with them?
How can our demons ever possibly dance
Together on the same floor?
 
I wanted to write you a think piece
Full of solutions for unity 
Based on my knowledge and life’s work
Yet this puzzle is not one that
Thinking will ever solve
And our feelings may burn down
Each other's houses 
I am curled up, crying on my couch
With the young women that still
Live inside
Just wanting their father to love them
As they are, as she is
A very blue soul
Who loves America and everything in it
With a fiercely bleeding heart

Dr. Jamie was proud to interview one of her role models and "legends" of expressive arts therapy, Dr. Cathy Malchiodi on January 6, 2021. Listen as they chat about the expressive arts and the needed paradigm shifts within our field.

To learn more about Dr. Malchiodi's work, go to: www.cathymalchiodi.com

​“We need to be in dark soil to grow. There is no spotlight in the womb. Darkness is incubation.”
 
Not separate
Darkness and light is whole in its contrast but
            also one in its wholeness of the same…
Darkness and light are a continuum
All is required for life and growth
Transformation from one to the other
Both And
The swirling, the deepening, the opening
reconciled within
The sun, the storm, the journey, the challenge
Brought us together today
Seeds push up through the black soil
Evolving ever onward
Entangled
You have to embrace darkness to give light a
rebirth.
And find wholeness that is my birthright
New life contracts from darkness to light
Love and Growth and Fear and Protect
all that is within
Held in a sacred womb
Both are gifts that merge
I can “be” Both

Do you spit or do you swallow? 
What! How dare you ask me that! 
 
The question is relevant 
Do you spit or do you swallow… 
The shame. 
 
Some women seem to have a natural gift 
To spit it out, to reject it 
Or they simply refused to be dicked around 
In the first place 
 
I am in awe of these women because for years 
I swallowed and 
Swallowed and 
Swallowed 
 
“Taking it like a woman” to  
Keep the connection 
To secure the attachment 
To be a good girl 
 
For the men I wanted to love me 
To praise me 
To adore me 
To let me play on their field 
 
Even though I was more talented 
More resilient 
More flexible and  
A hell of a lot stronger 
 
By swallowing the shame 
Internalizing the misogyny 
Being the version of a lady 
They wanted me to be 
 
And even treating other women 
Poorly in reaction 
Denying them their rights, 
Their process 
 
I swallowed 
Believing it would keep the man happy 
When he could care less what I did 
As long as he got off first 
 
How would he react now if I spit it 
Right back in his face? 
Would that make me an unlady? 
Will they take my good girl card away? 
 
Better yet, what if I don’t show up for the game? 
Make him take care of himself 
Hell has no fury like a privileged man 
Losing his power 
 
While compassion has long been our power 
I must no longer let the man use that against me 
I almost died in both body and spirit 
Caring too much 
 
When we step back into the power we deserve 
The world comes back into balance 
Yes, the fight ahead is a long one 
They will come after us 
 
Violently 
Or worse yet 
They may even deny us the  
Connection and love we desire 
 
May the fire burning in our bellies  
Lit from the kindling of that  
Good Girl card they revoked 
Light the way 
 
Surround yourself with the good men, women, and people 
Who will never make you be anything than who you are 
Who will celebrate your spirit to the fullest 
Who will never ask you—spit or swallow? 
 ​

“The heart is an organ of fire.” ~Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient
 
The limbic brain, the seat of our emotions and learning as human beings, can be destroyed by unhealed trauma. Ancient Christian mystics, often called the desert fathers and desert mothers, referred to this brain as the heart brain. Our emotional world, governed by the limbic brain, can feel like a fire that is raging out of control. Some trauma survivors are affected oppositely—they become shut off to feeling altogether. Often we shut ourselves off from emotion by choice, afraid of what feeling them might do to us.

Our emotional world and other matters of the heart are much like a fireplace that keeps a cabin warm. If the fire rages, it can burn the cabin down. If the fire dies, the cabin goes cold. Recovery teaches us how to keep the fire in balance—properly tended to create for us a beautiful warmth.
 
Invitation: Interlace your hands together and place them over your heart. If directly touching your body feels too activating, you may hover this cross-fingered gesture a few inches away from your heart. Spend 3-5 minutes in this position and listen to what messages your heart—and the emotional world it represents—may be giving you today.
 
Prayer or Intention: May the emotional fire of my heart create warmth—not destruction—today and on the path ahead.


Excerpt from the forthcoming, Trauma and the 12 Steps Daily Meditation Reader, releasing on September 30, 2020 from Creative Mindfulness Media
​
Photograph & Meme by Dr. Jamie Marich

Dear Friends
     Do not fall back asleep

Although the days are short
And the night is long.
     Do not fall back asleep

If your heart still beats for humanity
I beg you.
Go find your kindling
Reignite the flame within your heart.
     Do not fall back asleep

Remember 401 years of terror for Black Lives.
Reaffirm your commitment to justice
     Do not fall back asleep

Remember we still can’t breathe -
even though we find a way to keep smiling, laughing, drumming, crying,
working, marching
     Do not fall back asleep

For me and mine there is no option
We can not step out of our Black skin and take a day off.
There is no day off.
Our ancestral melanated garment calls us to action everyday. 
     Do not fall back asleep

My dear Ally
There can be no peace in our land if the blood of Black people continues
to flow through the streets.

Stay awake
     Do not fall back asleep.


Poetry and photography by Dr. Kellie Kirksey