A quiet meditation on grief and the small ways we refuse to let people leave us. It lingers in scent, objects, and memory—asking what remains when presence dissolves but love does not.
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This piece captures the shock of losing someone foundational and the painful collapse of illusion that follows, forcing a reckoning with grief and reality. In the absence of control, it becomes a call to summon strength, push past limits, and keep giving even when it hurts.
Through hands, materials, and weight, this piece follows the quiet undoing of identity through creation. What’s left when the work keeps going, but the self doesn’t?
Critics call it betrayal, but connection wins. Taps turn ideas into reality, ink-stained fingers mark the journey, and every critique stirs fresh scars—a vivid glimpse into an unfinished, unpredictable life.
Scattered fragments, hidden creativity, and dusty reminders of what could have been—an intense meditation on loss, resilience, and what remains.
A poetic glimpse into words as daily fuel—intimate, rhythmic, and quietly powerful—showing how language sharpens the mind, deepens connection, and keeps us from fading into grey.
Our veterans go through a lot in the service of our country, so it is no surprise that this population is more prone to disabilities, both physical and mental. Fortunately, having a service dog can make your life easier when you're running errands and handling other daily activities. They can also help during periods of heightened anxiety or panic attacks. Today, SPORKS! outlines some ways that your new friend can improve your quality of life and enhance your overall happiness.
I hate the term “special needs.” There, I said it. I know that statement is going to raise the ire of some people, but I have good reasons for my antipathy.
Let’s start with the term “special.” When I looked up the word “special” in the dictionary, the definitions were “better,” “greater,” or “otherwise different from what is considered usual.” Does that mean that the term “special needs” refers to needs that are better? Probably not. Needs that are “greater?” Quite possibly. Needs that are “otherwise different from usual”? Also, quite possibly and most likely.
I never leave the hospital that day. Instead, I get the grim, but not surprising news, of finding out a disk ruptured. Essentially, the reason my nerves now felt like they were on fire was because rather than being only partially cut off, they were almost entirely cut off from the rest of my body. Which explains why my head was cocked at a forty-five-degree angle, it was to offset the severe balance problem of my brain not being able to communicate with my leg. So, surgery was inevitable, however, you’d think I’d be afraid at this point. The thing is, I wasn’t. At no point did them putting me under, or performing surgery around my spine even phase me. It just seemed like a necessary thing at this point. It was do or die for me.
And even when you spend the energy to correct and call it out, you then have the back and forth of having to explain exactly why it was problematic. The burden of that shouldn’t have to fall on Black people. Arline Geronimus coined the term weathering back in the late 70s to describe the impact of racial discrimination on Black people. She found that Black people had higher incidences certain illness due to the stressors that are common and chronic in their lives. This constant stress and the effect it has on the body is what Geronimus refers to as weathering.