Bodies break. Bodies heal.

“I would say, 2-to-3,” she said, giving my leg another once-over.

“Months?” I squeaked out, imaging another 8 weeks like the last, resigned to physical therapy sessions every Wednesday and longingly looking out at the bike-path throughout the remainder of spring semester.

“Oh no, weeks! I’d say you could be running in 2-to-3 weeks.”

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Fight, resist, or heal

Sovereignty for marginalized (often indigenous) peoples. Adapting to climate change. Changing patterns of consumption and production. Challenging property, ownership, and gender norms. Advocating for local food, wholesome food, food symbiotic with sustainability. Writing and relating. Showing and listening. Learning in life and not by the book (or the institution). Being independent in action but dependent on solidarity. Setting a possible example. Being authentic. Reflecting and not gut-reacting. Thinking it through but not waiting for agency.

This is a complicated summary of the passions I have today, right now, this year at this time.

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Garden state of mind

I’m naturally attracted to flowers, even though I’m super-sensitive to fragrances and other strong (mostly artificial) smells.

Flowers of all kinds, really — I don’t discriminate. My media inventory is sprinkled with flower photo-ops, colorful reminders of nature on the sides of sidewalks and hidden beauties in untamed meadows. I’ve also got a thing for trees, as anyone on my Instagram knows. If I haven’t posted a picture of a flower or a tree in days, you’ll know something’s incredibly wrong with me.

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