Found this by looking at your LinkedIn page after you led a really wonderful IYI session today. This particular text (I haven't read any others -- I'm not stalking you, I promise) is meaningful to me. My work has everything to do with trust and belonging, and a few weeks ago I was led through a process of thinking about Belonging in regards to a place: "What is a place you know, in reality/memory/imagination, in which, when you walk in, your shoulders drop, you feel at ease, comfortable/comforted, and belonging?" When I heard the prompt, I was startled because I usually think of belonging as relational, about other humans, but the author suggested that thinking of a place might be safer for some. I haven't been able to lose that prompt, and reading this, I wonder how such a prompt might sit with you, both now and in your youth? I will certainly continue contemplating, but if you're open to answering, I would value your insights.
Lol. That's exactly what a stalker would say. I love that prompt. It's a powerful invitation into safety. I'm going to write a blog post about my response actually, but I'll give you a preview. Two places come to mind immediately. The first is Eagle Creek Park. There is no place I feel more comfortable than this park. At least, not in Indianapolis. I can't get there as often as I like, but it always invites a sense of ease for me. The second is the home my grandparents had when I was young. Their home was always a place of refuge for me. Thank you for the chance to reflect. What a gift.
(Clearly I don't spend near enough time on Substack as I'm just today reading your reply. More evidence I'm STILL not a stalker ... acknowledging that's exactly what a stalker would say!)
I'm delighted you love the prompt I stole from someone else and wrote about it! That's a good post, too (but I'll keep my comments here so, you know, not to seem more stalkery).
I've got a safe home, safe work environment, friends and family. Plenty to eat and more disposable income than I should be aware of, frankly. So I really enjoyed reading about your communion with nature at Eagle Creek, and about your genuine safety and relaxation with your grandparents. I could (and did) relax into these descriptions even though I'm sitting here at my computer alone.
And/but I'm always wondering: how might someone who's not as privileged as I am perceive these stories? Would your descriptions (or others' similar descriptions) cue them to feel even more alone and unsafe, or would it give them a window into imagining that safety for themselves and maybe seeking it out? It's not really fair to ask you this question, since these are your lived experiences, but knowing that you work with kids who don't necessarily have these safe places, I wonder if you have any insights about that.
Great piece. Paragraph 4 resonates. To sit back and ponder what you like to see in your space is a great way to begin. Here’s to making a home in 2022.
Found this by looking at your LinkedIn page after you led a really wonderful IYI session today. This particular text (I haven't read any others -- I'm not stalking you, I promise) is meaningful to me. My work has everything to do with trust and belonging, and a few weeks ago I was led through a process of thinking about Belonging in regards to a place: "What is a place you know, in reality/memory/imagination, in which, when you walk in, your shoulders drop, you feel at ease, comfortable/comforted, and belonging?" When I heard the prompt, I was startled because I usually think of belonging as relational, about other humans, but the author suggested that thinking of a place might be safer for some. I haven't been able to lose that prompt, and reading this, I wonder how such a prompt might sit with you, both now and in your youth? I will certainly continue contemplating, but if you're open to answering, I would value your insights.
Lol. That's exactly what a stalker would say. I love that prompt. It's a powerful invitation into safety. I'm going to write a blog post about my response actually, but I'll give you a preview. Two places come to mind immediately. The first is Eagle Creek Park. There is no place I feel more comfortable than this park. At least, not in Indianapolis. I can't get there as often as I like, but it always invites a sense of ease for me. The second is the home my grandparents had when I was young. Their home was always a place of refuge for me. Thank you for the chance to reflect. What a gift.
(Clearly I don't spend near enough time on Substack as I'm just today reading your reply. More evidence I'm STILL not a stalker ... acknowledging that's exactly what a stalker would say!)
I'm delighted you love the prompt I stole from someone else and wrote about it! That's a good post, too (but I'll keep my comments here so, you know, not to seem more stalkery).
I've got a safe home, safe work environment, friends and family. Plenty to eat and more disposable income than I should be aware of, frankly. So I really enjoyed reading about your communion with nature at Eagle Creek, and about your genuine safety and relaxation with your grandparents. I could (and did) relax into these descriptions even though I'm sitting here at my computer alone.
And/but I'm always wondering: how might someone who's not as privileged as I am perceive these stories? Would your descriptions (or others' similar descriptions) cue them to feel even more alone and unsafe, or would it give them a window into imagining that safety for themselves and maybe seeking it out? It's not really fair to ask you this question, since these are your lived experiences, but knowing that you work with kids who don't necessarily have these safe places, I wonder if you have any insights about that.
Great piece. Paragraph 4 resonates. To sit back and ponder what you like to see in your space is a great way to begin. Here’s to making a home in 2022.
Thank you! Here's to making home indeed.