Thursday, March 11, 2010


Just like the movable feast parties where you hop from one location to the next for each course. This is a Poetry Hop. Each course offers you a different taste of our ghost story. This game was created in celebration of Kota's 11th birth and death day. Read a course here, at the bottom, you'll find link to hop to the next course. 

Enjoy your trip, y'all! 

Ghost Story III

by Kara LC Jones

Kota's mum 

Memory smashed against the wall, 
shards streamed across the mine field 
of the hard wood floor. 

She stood motionless in the doorway, 
machinations stewing in pot, 
a broken heart, blackened and burnt on the stove top. 

On the other side of the room, 
the table was set and every chair filled 
with the remembrance of a dead child. 

The kitchen betrayal 
reneged on promises of hearth, 
shot spoonfuls of grief 
at all who dared enter. 

Click here to read, Ghost Story IV.


Hi, my lovely boy. 

So here we are. Another birthday. You'd be 11 today on 3/11. Amberlee's mom told me that in their family when the age and date match like that, they consider it a Golden Birthday. Attaching a photo to this post that came from Christian's mom. It was a golden sunset, and she said she wondered when she saw it at how much it felt like a boy's sunset, like it belonged to you. Nora' mum and family made sure trees were planted for you again this year. Cheyenne's mom is doing a Kindness Project for you today. And so many have left kind notes and sweet thoughts for you. The ZAMR family imagined you running on the beach, yelling back at all of us, "Come on you, slowpokes!"  

You are so present still. 

Odd. Yesterday was this sharply sunny, blue sky day. Like the day you were born. I stood outside in the sun yesterday afternoon and watching the wind sail the clouds across the skySea. You were still so present. 

And yet today. Today is one of those claustrophobic Spring days, hemmed in by a foggy gray, ceaselessly falling rain, a chill that streams through the very walls. And you feel so far away. 

How I long for the floodgates of my life to open. I feel the cusp of it. I wonder what role you play in all of it. I know my love for you flows through it all. My determination to never stop voicing the LIFE and LOSS experience in the same breath always. And yet we continue to struggle here. There has just never been a moment where it tumbles forward off the cusp yet. 

Had two interesting interactions about that recently. One, someone asked me if I wasn't yet tired enough of the feast and famine cycle to break it yet. That the cycle is my own illusion. While there is something there, all I walked away with was guilt and shame because I'm not good enough or skilled enough or healed enough to break the cycle. The spiral of self blame. Not very helpful. 

The second was an idea presented that if I was truly doing my "right work" in this world, then my audience would be reached with least effort, they would get most value, and the offerings would be sought after. Again, I get it. But I walk away questioning my "right work," guilting and shaming myself for not being better, healed, able to "let go of loss" and embrace abundance. Self blame spiral. Not helpful. 

Then I had an amazing discussion with Jaime Ridler. We talked about permission and abundance and loss and love and being authentic AND professional, being true to yourself AND doing right work in the world. And there it was. 

A permissive and sacred space for whatever I was feeling as we approached your 11th birth and death day. 

An allowance for the fact that my motherhood got channeled into the activism work I do. 

The affirmation that my whole life became a peaceful protest whereby we demand permissive and sacred space for every individual. 

There is immense value there. The ideas are effortlessly conveyed when the person is my audience. I am breaking the cycle of guilt and shame foisted upon bereaved families. There just is no clear way in this commercial society to put that on the $.99 cent shelf or in the high-end spa sector. Your presence continues to show me that this experiment here is about LIVING A LIFE, not about making a living. 

Whatever the consequences. 

I cannot thank you enough for that. 

I can't believe you are still giving me gifts on your birthdays instead of the other way around. 

My small mortal body is still at odds with its mortality. Linear time is this facade of structure that mocks control and safety, but really is frightening because every moment passing is lost. Everything about linear time is grief and loss. 

Truly breaking the cycle is letting go of the small mortal body, and embracing the ever present BEing - just like you are still here. 

Breaking the cycle is letting go the fake sense of control/locus of linear time, and instead embracing the ALL time, the quantum fall off the cusp into conscious knowledge of how past present future all IS. 

It is a mind fuck to be sure. 

And yet here we are. Present, talking to Past, about Future. IS. 

You are simply bonded to everything I do, love. Just as your physical cells remain in my mortal body, so too are you woven with the Light Body. 

11 years. 
11 years from now. 


And the crisp wind streams through the walls of the office. 

I miss you. 
You never left. 
I want to be more present with you. 

And the rain is ceaseless.