Second Draft: The Baby Bird

Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Unsplash

Dear Ones, I had a realization this morning. I realized that All the process of writing, all the “show your work” stuff that I love and that is the reason for this newsletter — I have been neglecting it. Whether that’s from fear or habit or something else, I don’t know. But today I am going back to a previous Breath.

Here is the first draft:

As I read it over, I was struck by how impersonal it was. I was holding back what I really wanted to express, which was much more personal and much more vulnerable. (Perhaps this is why I’ve been avoiding process? The vulnerability?) Anyway, this draft is closer, even if it does still feel like it was written by an avatar. This, for me, is the work of process: chipping away at all the protective layers to get to what it is I actually meant, and to let that be seen, heard, and felt.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published"Never touch the baby bird —Your smell will cling to it andthe mother will reject it andit will starve.It will die."This is how I learnedmy body is contaminated.It was the deepest desire of my tender child heart —to hold a soft thing close to my chest,to feel a breath and a heartbeat in my hands —I learned that desire is death.I grew in this body,the one I knew to be dangerous.I gave up on tender things,on the pulsing desires of the flesh,on sharing breath and heartbeat,on whispering love directly into nature’s open ears.

And now, a request: I am putting together a short audio offering that pulls together my love of picturesque cemeteries, imagining stories about people, and being read to. Do you have a cemetery where you like to wander, or a particular resting place that draws your imagination? And if so, would you tell me about it?