Interior Ocean

In the yoga studio, the fifteen of us lie still, at the end, and our breaths are in unison; our breaths resemble the sound of waves. I’m rocked back into my memories.

The darkness behind my eyelids is softened by the low lit screens all around us. Though I’m perfectly still on the ground, my body lightens and begins to feel as if it is swaying.

My breathing channels through my body like waves and I feel layers of me shifting surfaces, moving forward and backward, forward and backward, swinging. The breaths of others around me are the waves gently lapping the coast, the distant waves folding into themselves; they are the waves molding over my skin, like an aqueous shield, but soon breaking in foam all around me. Continue reading “Interior Ocean”

Home Thoughts

When I see your pale face and black hair I ask myself if you could be Hispanic. In fact, I think of my childhood doctor Dr.Bengochea.

I see a woman’s printed pants: black, white, and blue, and it reminds me of the tiles in Sevilla, Spain.

It makes me yearn for home and I wonder why I’m not home. But then I remember I don’t belong there. I don’t belong here either.

I’m in between and never really comfortable anywhere .

I thought of the essay “Elsewhere”, by Kundera. I thought about self-exiles and displacement: it isn’t very much a tragedy, so much as an acceptance that nowhere will ever be just right.

Some people are born with their homes on their back

The Landscape of a Woman’s Body

I looked at her legs and they reminded me of mountains

I realized that my disgust or aversion was related to my appraisal and desire, as if her body were mine or soon to be mine. but that fell away when I remembered that even if I was a man, her body was not for my pleasure or approval, but for her existence. I looked on her body as a landscape, as a of nature: glory, miracle, creation.

I saw Continue reading “The Landscape of a Woman’s Body”

Shakespeare, Faulkner, and Tattoos

My best friend Basak is getting a tattoo, of a skull, on her right ankle. I said I’d get a matching one. Surprised and touched, she yelled in excitement and curiosity “Baby!” . She didn’t question me “Are you sure?” She already knew that there was something deeper. I’m not the type of woman to follow just to follow. I’m not silly enough to get a permanent mark on my body just to fit in. I’m not that whimsical. So…. why?

Life is surprising, that is why. Unpack that: Continue reading “Shakespeare, Faulkner, and Tattoos”

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