This is what I see when I see a woman: a bundle of desires.   Even if she doesn’t think so, even if she doesn’t know so, even if she is in a place of lost. Beneath the surface of her cultural cooperation beats a wild free heart filled with longing. The only way to...

I feel like if I put my ear to the ground right now, I would hear a rumbling. Whirring. Crackling. Dull thudding. Microscopic bursting. Spring does not start on the surface. It starts way below, in roots and bulbs and systems of interconnection, architected by the Divine, to awaken, renew, reconsecrate. It does not matter...