Archive for the ‘pedagogy’ Category

sewing and snowing

January 17, 2018

peacocks transform what is poison for others into beautiful colors in tail feathers – these creatures are a longstanding symbol for genderqueer/trans and oppressed others’ power – we bring/demonstrate/teach/share/explore beauty and love and embodied autonomy and capacity for change with All Beings



the quietude of this particular day is warm with birds and tracks, wool and time



some part of me has always enjoyed the simplified symbol/cartoonish shape inspired by the anatomical heart…



snow days are a quirky challenge, as i lose wages and gain space in other wei/ways – contemplative lifestyle + capitalism = strange blend



made this scarf for someone – the very day after bemoaning to another artist/beloved that i was going to have to set aside artistic endeavors while i focus on sustaining my life with an overwhelming/lovely entrepreneurial endeavor – found me claiming space-time to sew lickety-split ; )



surely allows time to draft a workshop proposal for an embodied learning summit focusing on racial justice :: draft of workshop title and  description below…

…all and any feedback welcome!


Nama Rupa and the Master’s Tools


We communicate with postures before we ever speak. We form and then we name. We learn movements in gravity before we learn words. We reform and we rename throughout life.

All oppression in some way is oppression of the body. Yoga is a practice of liberating the body and mind. With cultivated awareness, even right down during and within particular conditions that outwardly and inwardly limit thinking/believing and feeling/being and acting/doing, we grow and we change.

With Audre Lorde’s oft quoted quote, let’s reach down into our deep present-past – before words – into our original language – movement. Let’s unpack the Nama Rupa of self and politics – names and forms unfolding in consensus reality. Let’s discuss, meet between words, re-write ourselves whole with broken/repaired bodies, minds, and All…

…versions of this workshop are also being drafted into articles/essays for a couple of publication potentials…



November 22, 2017


for the Eno People


for the Eno River


for brokenhearted ignorance


part Cherokee?


Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation


about NC Native Communities


Triangle Native American Society


Thanksgiving/Thanks-taking and Privilege


Rethinking Thanksgiving


Eno Indians


Eno Tribe


missives from the playground

March 14, 2017


adult playground – in photos

child’s playground – in words

both true.


how to make chalk hand-prints (best results when 6 – 8-yrs-old):


get a friend to trace around your body sprawled on the asphalt/ground with chalk


spend long time deliberately skrushing in various solid colors with huge sidewalk chalks; for clothing, hair, accoutrements, and skin of your silhouetted image [could take 20-40 minutes]


lightly pat your open palms onto chalk colored self-portrait a couple three times


place hands firmly in an unchalked spot on the asphalt


leap up into a handstand – after a breath, plant feet again earthward one at a time and stand tall [takes 1-2 seconds]


there they are. bright colored hand-prints clear and detectable for all passers-by


2017 how to

January 3, 2017


how to be with the messy in-between of

frozen-with-fear and taking action


to be with the messy in-between of

my intentions and making big mistakes


be with the messy in-between of

making big mistakes and results of my actions


how to be with the messy in-between of

results of my actions and my intent


sync to sink




sink to sync


20 Questions for Memorial Day

May 30, 2016
  • How can you have your ideology and I have mine, and we freely enjoy common sources for food and oxygen and art and education?
  • How does our identity grow compassion? How does it grow conflict and war?
  • How can we allow creative co-existence for all physical and mental expressions/abilities, all genders, for all races, all religions and atheisms, all cultures, and for all organizing structures?12552820_1133990649959493_1479680752676447220_n
  • How do humans manifest religions and then ever become convinced that there is some ultimate source for beliefs?
  • What can be undone?
  • What can be done?
  • Why are folks not jealous when another is in trouble, in need, suffering, but jealous of another who is happy, healthy, enough?
  • How can my suffering be a remedy for all suffering?
  • How can precariat creative class organizers, in an effort to slow down gentrification, act with knowledge and respect that this struggle comes after communities of people of color have already been displaced?
  • How can a focus on my relative imperfections enlighten your ultimate perfect-ness?
  • How will our struggles over access to oil and water ever stir into enough?
  • Why does that uniformed human invoke a sense of relief or unease? Is it the cloth? The person inside the cloth?
  • Why is it predicted that soon we will see the right wing populist movement manifesting more government welfare programs?
  • How is not-enough-ing distinct from never-enough-ing?
  • How can we heal from scarcity driven capitalism?
  • How is this time of haves versus have-nots different from any other?
  • Why does perceived space seem to stretch time?
  • How does obscuration of our interdependence continue to be possible, even as the evidence of it gets clearer and clearer?
  • How are we convinced that consuming culture, romance, vacuums, and new shoes will save us?
  • How are these questions dependent on my privilege? My lack of agency?

    Anatomy of War Smith & Wesson by Noah Scalin

    Anatomy of War: Smith & Wesson           by Noah Scalin

  • How is another deployment or bomb going to teach children that we have learned from our history?
  • How much do health and happiness cost?
  • How can we honor the lost, the dead?
  • How is it useful to have an inhale and an exhale?

It is uncanny how these 3 different sources overlap in their clear awareness of what our challenges are and their ideas for what-to-do:

  1. incredible history lessons here (worth e.v.e.r.y minute 1:48:30),
  2. a lovely lengthy writing on queerness and polyamory,
  3. a confounding and humorous display of understanding and compassion (57:47),


with your sp a c e today

January 18, 2016

what will you do…



















rest, sigh, grieve, scream, walk, cry, march, sing, dance, act…


seeing Selma

November 12, 2015

devoting Veterans’ Day to breathing across the Alabama River on the Journey to Freedom (e. pettus) Bridge seemed a fitting way to honor all who have and continue to struggle for freedom…


My nephew truly wanted to join me. I followed his lead and we spent 900% more time in 2 museums than he original planned! (Seeing those fists pulls my heart in my throat.) He and I were thrilled that my Mom wanted to come too...

My nephew truly wanted to join me. I followed his lead and we spent 900% more time in 2 museums than he originally planned! (Seeing those fists pulls my heart in my throat.) He and I were thrilled that my Mom wanted to come too…




precise and wild – this nurtured nature of us

August 5, 2015

i am learning/perceiving/receiving

more and more

what DSCN3938

my gifts


what i have to creatively offer

our whirrld

to possibly relieve any

one being

or maybe many

of some



any confusion

…some confusions.

as i become clearer


my selfhood

and what i might/can contribute,

this gain in understanding/perception/learning

is matched.

this wildness of me

is matched



with understanding

that i will never

fulfill such dynamic exchange

of potentiality.

personal, institutional, and cultural/social systems


will  never

let me DSCN3937

fully express

and embody

and engage

my fullest potential.

i’m becoming okay with this/that.

i see

us all

precise and wild.

i see so many beloveds

and unknowns

whether with

resonant or radically opposing

views of politic/health/beliefs/etc

all DSCN3943


in relationship

with being

such to sacrifice

that freedom for this boned limbed lunged heartmindbody

this freedom for that identity

that expansiveness for this love

this ideal for that humbleness

that truth for this gratitude

no wrongs no rights

i dive into investigating disability

and public assistance

and find

i am in a middle


a place way

of neither

sinking nor swimming

… yet.

it is a privileged





horrifying DSCN3936








who is ill?

the system?




i glean any knowledges with this process

so to serve

and share

and relieve sufferings

of others!


at the least, that.

go ahead.



this can also be known as

a growing/evolution

past 40

into 40-something.

that is real.

that is happening for me this month.

…an agendered asexual genderqueer genderfuck approaching “menopause” is a thing.

with other “symptoms”

of other corporeal and subtle

body systems


to boot…

i simply wish



us each and all

…that we lean into relationship

with our own and others’ selves, beliefs, politics,

and ask

what does this/that depend on?

what does this thought/belief depend on?

what does that feeling depend on?

what do i depend on?


and what do you depend on lovie?!

~all/any credit for current conditions of perceived ground/brilliant sanity, knowing there isn’t any, and feeling terrifyingly exhilarated with such knowledge is interdependent upon my friend’s new book ~ xoxo

travel space-time

April 19, 2015













blood on my face, blood in their eyes

March 18, 2015
a dream.
or a song.
that hits you so hard.
filling you up.
and suddenly gone.
~Midnight Radio

  i. was. the. chosen. one.

in 10 parts.

bah dhum Tsh.


for one show.  one night.  on Broadway.


what does that mean?!

choose your own adventure: skip to part XI to find out what that means…

Photo Mar 14, 11 51 11 PM


part 1

he’s the one

i was set to see the Broadway version of Hedwig again.

this time with John Cameron Mitchell(JCM) himself playing the role.

this time in a front row almost center seat.


breathing through the palpitating.


part 2

a gift

i was in NYC for an early childhood education conference.  before i left home, i’d been too busy to hand-sew that neck tie i wanted to craft for JCM.

i found a school’s colorful brochure, some wooden coffee stirrers, a small piece of duct tape scavenged from the sound engineer at the conference, and a ball point pen – to make a gift for JCM. i made a mini paper quilt with a story about knees in drawings, words, and photos mashed up – a story quilt of healing from my 2 “damaged/flowing” menisci to his.

JCM is currently wearing a knee brace and has brilliantly hilariously altered the script to integrate his injured and older/wiser status. i am 3 weeks into acute PT for a knee injury that happened 10 years ago…





part 3

go monastic it’s fucking fantastic

setting the “stage” here. you’ll see: standing in line, i was reading up on 11th & 12th century diaspora of Buddhism from North India into Tibet. and the over-arching shift from more inward study to external icon and ritualized ways Buddhism was made more and more accessible yet distorted for more and more lay persons. why of course i was.


part 4


ok, so now i’m armed with the gift and my ticket.

i approach my seat and find it situated near halfway underneath the protruding stage flooring. Thank goodness eye level was about one inch (literally-if even) above stage height. otherwise there’d’ve been no view of so much happening up stage…

noticing proximity to the mic stand – i flashback to early 90s Ani Difranco dive bar shows. those days were the last and only times i identified as a fan in the true sense, in that i even could attend multiple shows, follow her around, always smush up to the front center, and get in trouble for getting too close to the star…

oh, i fanatically study and love on many artists and their works. but live shows are my thing. they are what truly help me wake up and identify as a living human. quite a mash-up for my crowd-avoidant-introverted selfhood and performance artist worshipping freakiness. i have not been able to be the live fan for the artists i most deeply admire/melt for…

so here this year i’ve been blessed and privileged and able to move Hedwig from a movie/cd kinda dream place to tangible reality! (whew. tangible. indeed. still giddy-silly-high 4 days later, any moment remembering the physically and socially awkward oh-so public moment.


part 5


i’m in drag in my hoodie uniform, such as i always am. Audience community builds around my silent space. in my solo attendance, i wonder how much i can let go, cry, sing out-loud, express the way i ugly sob when listening to Wig In A Box or the film soundtrack at home…

i was ready in my anonymity to cry my eyes out, sing outloud etc… express. participate as i just don’t do in context of known others. not that i can’t, i just am quiet like that- energetically, emotionally, physically. of course some of you close family-of-origin and chosen-family members are laughing at me now; you get to see my drama-king-queen sides more easily.

Alone at home i naturally express a wider/fuller repertoire of emotion etc… That’s the kinda agendered asexual recluse i am. Alas, i thought i could i might… i felt a possible freedom this night to let go into the anonymity…


Some famous folks sit one seat over to my left – folks i don’t recognize, but everyone’s abuzz as to who they are. The couple to my right has seen Broadway Hedwig 30+ times. Many around have seen each actor portraying Hedwig at least once in the past year’s rock-n-roll-ness. i feel all humble and small and comfortable with my power of casting a leave-me-alone-to-my-experience wall around myself…

The show begins. Time moves. The 4th wall is broken quickly. Those interactive tropes of the show accumulate. Hedwig steps right on top of the head of the neighbor to my left. Spit falls on our half of the front row. A person way over on the house left side of the row receives the carwash. Another from that territory gets pulled up on stage as America’s Next Top Bottom.

It’s cool. It’s all good. i’m not having to fight my i-wanna-be-more-a-part-of-it-all / i-wanna-disappear demons. people are enjoying themselves, becoming more and more a part of it all for this night, this show at least. The energy is all… awakening. full. the sensory overload of such encounters are in the end always enough for me. more than enough. life-enhancing. revitalizing. i just know how i can easily come across as disinterested and disingenuous from the outside.

Yitzhak slays me per usual. Not sure whose pain ever eats me alive more, Hedwig’s or Yitzhak’s. i’ve made eye contact with all the actors and musicians. lovely. It is an intimate wonderful context.

i am not accessing the watery emotions. i am struck at witnessing JCM measure his body/cave, pushing and pulling softening Hedwig’s projection of voice and energy in turns. this is where my experience rests. witnessing the mastery of the artists. Lena Hall’s voice. Yitzhak’s forlorn gaze. ugghhh. i also cache some of this emotional distancing as response to how physically close i am! i can’t take in the whole postural humor and dismantling of identities in the way someone farther back can. i saw it that way the other time i came; of course that wasn’t JCM. but i’m finding my way in, to marvel as a lowly mortal receiving an inestimable gift from JCM/Hedwig hirself and the Angry Inch/Tits of Clay band members themselves!


part 6

blood on my face



i. was.
french kissing JCM.
s/he kissed me?
Hedwig seems the only and best time appropriate to ever never use “s/he.”
some call it the “triple crown” when they get the carwash, the spit, and the tomato ness.
i did not get the carwash.
i got tomato stains ample. 2 times spit upon.
part 7

I could swear by your expression that pain down in your soul

was the same as the one down in mine.




part 8

why did s/he choose me?!

  • because i looked like i needed it the most
  • because JCM could see through my self-in-drag-as-self and see my 3rd/4th wave queer post-post-feminist non gendered performance artist self who ritualizes similar disrobing/dismantling of clothing, skin, identities – public bleeding literally – despite my inspirations not being JCM himself but artists he might appreciate: Carolee Schneeman, Karen Finley, James Luna, Annie Sprinkle, Meredith Monk, Diamanda Galas, Mierle Laderman Ukeles, …
  • because…!?
  • because I looked like I needed it the most
as a performance artist myself, i know those choices made precisely particularly to the very present audience of who to play with / off of. some moments it is the waifish needy looking sad case. other moments it is the one who looks willing, brave, open, able… verruh different presences/beingnesses that connect to how i as the performer am even feeling able to cull another’s energy in any given performative moment or exchange. there’s no simple one-way answer. what is not a performative moment? you are performing drag as your self – however you chose to dress/appear today!
oh the fantasies of self-importance. how JCM was gonna demand the online ticket seller reveal my email and reach out to me (via clues -that aren’t there- in the gift i handed him). and consult about pedagogy and all things contemplative embodiment. how young children teach us. and how i could support his management of physical and vocal energy. as if he needed such! neverminding that i witnessed him eloquently beautifully fluidly choosing to pull back and push forward with his vocal effort when perfect to do so in the character and story of the moment — and in the real knee pain compromisings i could detect. exquisite.
slip into your self-same shaped egomindheartbody mechanism and find those reasons you thinkfeelsayact your ways. you know at least the scape-space inside you, the same as the one down in me… where we keep our deepest sanest thoughtsecrets.
part 9
i’d no idea what i actually looked like for hours after, as i sat in audience, waited in fandom queue, waltzed through the subway after 1am. i thought i looked freakish with some glitter and sheen all over my visage.
what a laugh, when i saw the bathrrom mirror at the seminary guest house i was abiding. i looked like – just like – i’d been kissed by a drag queen or some such. i looked just like i’d been French kissed by some heavy make-up wearing valkyrie. oh, the smiles and winks i’d exchanged with underground performers and subway folks waiting. i truly thought i just looked more queer/freakish with some sheen and glitter all over my head. inspite, i looked kinda sexual? active? available? or spent?! another layer of the hi.larity of the nightmorning and my ignorance as an asexual freak-thing.
dry cracked lips and all the smphwhaauhh marks around.
i’d chewed gritty glitter for hours after the kiss.
this. was. real.
this. happened.
because i looked like i needed it the most
part 10
blood in their eyes
what still goads me is, 4days later, i still don’t recognize the depth of the laugh that leaves my body, when i remember how suddenly Hedwig’s/JCM’s legs were around me. i didn’t look up. S/he grabs the scruff of my hoodie and pulls me up into her/his face! there was the slightest non-verbal communication of: “Yeah. I mean. you. Yeah. This is happening. Now.” um. there were teeth and tongue and glitter was transferred. TMI. sorry not sorry.
i don’t remember opening my eyes until after. Yitzhak is glaring with stabbing defeat into my eyes into my colon. Hedwig is glancing with disappointment and requests Yitzhak to clear tomorrow’s appointments for more disappointments. me being disappointment #1. (i was already raising my finger high in the air – understanding my role in the scheme of things – belatedly remembering this play/line from the summer show…) what a rare true disappointment asexual agendered inexperienced non kisser me must have been for poor JCM! my contemplative lay-monastic Tibetan Tantrika self gritted glitter between my teeth for hours.
part XI

what does this mean?!

here’s what i learned about egomindbodymechanism after star-crossed kiss…
what does it mean that JCM chose me to kiss out of the shiney front row of stylized stylish wealthy and famous people that night?
i was seen.
for a moment.
that’s all.
that’s worth a lot.
for one who wishes for invisibility and death frequently.
it was validating.
i exist.
i am corporeal.
ripped apart and sewn together in my ways too.
literally. (which maybe isn’t the case for the hundreds of others JCM’s Broadway Hedwig has kissed and will kiss…)
among the throngs and thongs i’m nothing.
a speck.
tommy speck.
tommy gnosis.
part p.s.
i helped Hedwig lose the make-up and become self-knowledge and acceptance of self… or something like that.
and while i was outta town, my school officially shared the news with families and staff that i am leaving my job. whew. heart wrenching sadness.
Photo Mar 14, 11 50 34 PM (1)
part psst…
a dream.
or a song.
that hits you so hard.
filling you up.
and suddenly gone.
~Midnight Radio