“Our “new” or higher brain” by Julia at her desk

Wednesday November 21, 2018
2:25pm
5 minutes
Gentle Birth, Gentle Mothering
Sarah J. Buckley

Take me out to dinner
I say this to me
me says this to me
take me out of this house
and into the world
Order something delicious!
I say this to me as
if I might try to save a few
dollars like the last time
I had this conversation
Take the good out and let
the world see it so they can
see themselves the way they need to
It is not easy
It could be easy
Leave the house! Leave the house!
I say this to me when I have tricked
myself into believing that
inside will keep me from breaking
But it isn’t like that
I could lie and say I’d prefer
to stay inside where it is safe
but the truth is that is where
all the breaking happens
It is not safe indoors with all
the mirrors and all the couch
not asking me to leave it
Take yourself on a walk
I say this to myself when my body
feels like it has forgotten
how to move
Smell the fresh mountain air!
That’s why you live here!
I say this to myself when I catch
a bead of sweat pooling in the
elbow crease
This is today’s sweat in yesterday’s
sweater and this does not keep
you safe
I say this to myself so I can hear
it in the voice of someone
higher than me

“biking in the rain” by Julia on Kits Beach


Monday April 18, 2016
4:49pm
5 minutes
overheard on Yew

I am
Moving
To a place where
You do not have
To worry
About
Biking
In
The
Rain
Because this place
Doesn’t have
Rain
And this place
Doesn’t have
Bike
Lanes
So crisis averted
And nobody’s hurt
And nobody’s sad
Because their
Favourite
Shirt
Got
Road grit
Splattered
On it
This place where
I’m going
Is far
And is
Wide
And is
Hope
And is
Dream
I will invite
You to meet me
As soon
As
I
Learn
My new
Address
Something like
Sunny Lane
In Sunshine Town
Just at the corner
Of
Rainbow and Sunset
Or I guess
Not Rainbow?
No more
Rainbows?
I didn’t
Think
This
New life
Through
I’ll need
Rainbows

“to firm up” by Sasha at Culprit Coffee


Friday January 30, 2015 at Culprit Coffee
4:10pm
5 minutes
Ani’s Raw Food Desserts
Ani Phyo


You build up your courage
A layer of restlessness
The rain isn’t good enough
You’re after something stronger

Your mother made bread
Sunday morning warmth
Honey and oats
Music from the Church three doors down

Remember where you came from
Dear heart
The taste of summer
It’ll be back soon
Sooner than you can say

“I’m cold”
“I’m tired”
“I feel so far away”
“I’ve got everything”
“I’ve got nothing”

You left your heart on the side of the road
You marked it like a grave
Two sticks bound with sweetgrass
You looked back over your shoulder

Once

“SO COLD” by Julia at MAKE coffee+stuff


Saturday June 21, 2014 at MAKE
1:49pm
5 minutes
a postcard at MAKE coffee+stuff

Hadn’t thought about Missy since last winter when I remembered how much she loved the cold. She somehow disappeared from my life and my mind quicker than she came into it. Them. Both things, in which she was sort of a permanent resident. A fixture. A thing that made me crazy and wild and irrational. She was always going on about getting the right jacket and then just sucking the rest of it up. I told her I had grown up in the cold and ‘sucking it up’ was just not enough. She said if you’re going to complain just move already! And then I understood what everything in the world meant. Something about not wishing for things that are outside of you or wanting things that aren’t in front of you. We choose everything. We choose the temperature we stay in, we choose the people we spend time with, we choose to love or not love someone. We choose to be happy. Missy had that fully realized and she was living it. She chose me one second and the next something else. I’m still alive. I missed her for a while. But I understood that right now is something different from right now every time the second hand on the clock shifts right. Then I thought about getting a really proper jacket and just sliding down some snow hills face first. Cause, you know, choices.

“weather permitting” by Julia on her couch


Friday January 31, 2014
1:18am
5 minutes
The Actor’s Survival Guide
Jon S. Robbins


i guess my whole life has been ‘weather permitting’. like will i read a book today? yeah, maybe, ‘weather permitting.’ or, another example would be, will i get out of bed before noon today? yeah, maybe, ‘wether permitting.’ it makes sense because i’m a very sensitive person. i’m activated and deactivated by the temperature, by the sun, or the lack there of, by the rain, by the copious and dreadful amount of rain, by the mud, by the slush, by the snow, by the hail. like i’m not saying i’m the only one who is, cause, i know i’m not. i know i’m so not the only one. i don’t even have one of those lamps, like, to ease you into the day, to wake you up naturally like the sun does when it gets super depressing. like i don’t have one of those so i know i can’t be that bad, but the productivity that i base my success and failures on, well. yeah. that’s when i’d say it really effects me. almost so much so that i can’t even string more than three thoughts together to form a complete sentence or like, do the load of laundry that separates me from being a dirty hobo and a decent looking human being. you know when you just have one of those loads that has all your decent items in it cause you wore it all one week cause it was probably nicer out during that period? like all the coloured things or the shimmery stuff that you don’t feel like just busting out when you don’t get out of bed cause there’s like seriously no need, right?