My feet fit together perfectly, like maybe I wasn’t a creature meant to walk at all.

What if we got it all wrong?

Maybe that’s why my hips slip and slide, why my joints smack against each other like toddler-kisses. This body is a waterpark of joy, though I think the doctors like to call it joint disordered.

The arches in my feet remind me of Mamasaur’s, and I wonder how she would feel about this being an inheritance I claim. Look how our feet refuse to plant themselves fully on the ground. Look, how certain my bones are that they can climb into the clouds if they just stretch far enough.

My arches look like a tiny bridge foundation, and then, then, then, does that mean my feet are the bridge?

Who can I connect to just by standing here?

I haven’t written here in some time because I haven’t written anywhere, but here are some things that have happened or will:

• I have an Awakin call scheduled. You can call or zoom in and listen to me talk about my life and the lessons of it. This particular group of people were important to Kozo, so you know that you will be welcome there, too. This Saturday at 9am PST. To register to see a pretty picture of me (if I do say so myself): https://www.awakin.org/calls/566/ra-avis/
• I felt really sad about trees and how I lost them for so long while incarcerated. It was a grief I hadn’t dug up before and sitting with it felt so very healing.
• I reached a milestone for StrokeBrain. I set goals for myself and said that I would consider myself healed when I reached them. Best beloveds, I reached them. This, too, has been a grief unexpectedly. I was so busy healing these last years that I didn’t get to really sit with everything that happened.
• I learned about kissing bugs and other parasites. [Insert face of shock and fascination.]
• I have a stack of mail I have not gotten to. I’ve even fallen behind on writing Steph after she successfully was able to transfer from jail to prison. I will get to it all soon.
• I browsed my own Instagram highlights for the first time ever and found so much joy in the beauty I hoard there: https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/18188639380100070/
• A work-project launched– a new podcast about abolition. I talk a lot about what I always talk about: how I believe we can do better by us. For details, episodes, transcripts, etc: InitiateJustice.org/podcast
• And the emails! I’m so behind on the emails. My wrists are fickle friends.

It is hard thing to say that I write less because it hurts when I write more, and because voice notes remind me of a time that I’m not ready to look back on fully.

I mean.

Do you remember when I didn’t even recognize the alphabet? I loved how the letter A looked then. So tall and triangular, like a piece of furniture or a bridge, but not like my feet.

Now, like trees, I sometimes don’t notice the letter A at all. It’s like these memories are stored so far back in my brain that I can’t access then.

So there you have it. My brain is an overpacked freezer with every tree I ever missed filling the back row. My joints are a waterpark. The letter A has feet, but not feet like Mamasaur’s, and not feet like mine.

My feet are like a bridge, but also, the arches fit perfectly together, like maybe I wasn’t ever meant to walk at all. Like maybe this is how my body folds.

Like maybe the bridge I am built to cross only leads me to more of myself,
and back again.