Posts tagged Language
A Radical Fairy Tale

This story is based in the ideas I wrote about in my last post ‘Breaking the Magic Spell’ . It is intended to demonstrate the radical power of narrative to empower healing by re-framing our challenges in a fairy tale format, where we are our own heroes. The illustrations are examples of the experiments I describe at the end of my last post. They are studies of how we might add to the power of telling our own fairy tale by creating a mandala-like image reflecting our story, to help us contemplate it as a regenerative cycle rather than as a linear, zero-sum game. This story is allegorical of some of my own experiences, and is here to characterize what this theory looks like in writing. It is not intended to judge or inflict harm on any individual. We are all composed of every character in our fairy tale narrative, each one a representation of internalized forces that have come to define us as we understand ourselves today.

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Pysanka Party

Honoring my Slavic side through an art form that relates strongly to the concept of ‘Magical Folk Arts’, Pysanka are charms made in Spring to bring blessings to the household and community throughout the year. Best known in their Ukrainian and Polish forms, but practiced all over the Slavic world, families traditionally made 50-60 eggs; one for each member of the household - including livestock, some for gifting to close friends and family, some for youths to exchange with sweethearts and some for added health for newborns. Each design element and color employed is a part of a visual language that dates back to the Pre-Christian era, and while largely lost over time, still holds mysteries and magic via intentional folk symbolism.

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Seeing Signs

Initiated by my Daughter’s severe Childhood Apraxia of Speech, a large part of the journey this work has taken me on has been about communication. Through the use of symbols and sign language, we have learned to understand each other better, but there are still large gaps to be filled in, particularly around more subtle or complex desires and ideas that she has no way of expressing. This has been a huge challenge for her self-advocacy efforts, and often ends in tears and stomping fits that I find myself ill-equipped to diffuse. But the experience has helped me come to appreciate how much the able-bodied world takes for granted, and how little we appreciate the uphill battle that is experienced by the disabled. Every. Single. Day.

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