The Invisible Real

imagineSo what of imagination when it’s splayed open, the little ones exposed and raising their voices like commercials in explanation: Look here, Mama, at the great invisibles; see the wolf in the curtain, the train come to take us, the deep water below the bed?

So what of it – when I give the yeah -yeahs and the uh-huhs? What of it dies down a little?

As a mother, now it is my honor to put out fires or to let them burn, and how can I know how to enter in without my own attentive imagination in tact and the power of empathy in force?

…continue reading at (in)

About me


What I Knew In My Dying Day: a Wild in the Hollow Guest Post by Tara Owens
August 19, 2015
Condemnation on the Molehill
June 08, 2015
Tools for the Highly Sensitive Mother: An Introduction
April 27, 2015
The Uncouth: The Hormonal
May 12, 2014
You Have Not Come to Darkness
April 30, 2014
What Mothers Me
April 01, 2014
A Haines Home Companion: On Limbo
February 27, 2014
Learning How to Eat (and a giveaway of Mom in the Mirror)
May 20, 2013
Poor and Powerless: My First Time to Speak
April 17, 2013


Reply November 6, 2009

"I am a mother, a shepherdess of bleating souls. They squeal and play, and I can crouch down with them and show them how to give it to God. I can crouch down and learn how to hundred-fold envision, how to act out needy and how to act out pure."

Wow. I feel like all I can do lately is quote what you say back to you. I hope you don't mind.

Reply November 8, 2009


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