|
The Harvest Moon is perhaps the most celebrated full moon in the lunar calendar. It is simultaneously self-explanatory and full of limitless story and tradition. We are barreling toward the Fall equinox. The leaves are about to change and the pumpkin armies are amassing. Enjoy this season brimming with the warmth and promises that endure us through any coming hardship. -Noah Christie Aporia Blog Editor  stock photo courtesy of istock.com Doomsday Diary Life in a bunker can make a girl go crazy if she doesn't get ahead of it and stay busy. I never really bought into the whole preparedness craze that swept through the country in the years before the war. David was the one who insisted on pivoting our savings and discretionary budget into what he mirthfully called our "home beneath the loam", and since he brought in the money and supplied the dad jokes and typically asked for nothing in return I ended up not only humoring him on the endeavor, but also convincingly feigning interest when he got excited about the bunker planning and fell wallet first into the “prepping” subculture. David spent months before the groundbreaking scouring the internet and message boards in an attempt to compile the perfect shopping cart of survival gear, dried foodstuffs with an absurdly long shelf life, and a layman's library of post apocalyptic TEOTWAWKI survival guides. He rented an excavator through a company that installed septic tanks before the doomsday craze but was quick to pivot into the new survivalism market, and he started bidding on shipping containers at first with some idea of cobbling them together into some sort of underground Hilton, but ended up opting for one of those “made-to-order” 3D printed concrete home companies that let you e-mail a CAD file and get exactly what you designed for pennies on the dollar as long as you were willing to sign a structural stability waiver. In the spring of 2028, we broke ground in our backyard and dug a pit to house what any judge in the world would consider grounds for divorce. I’m pretty sure that David actually classified the entire thing as a greenhouse when he lied through his teeth to get the zoning permits, but he grinned the whole time like he'd gotten away with something. I told the neighbors we were putting in the base for an in-ground swimming pool every time they complained about the noise. In retrospect I really should have considered what my exit strategy would have been once summer rolled around and I wasn’t inviting any of them inside the privacy fence for a dip, but I was too embarrassed by the entire endeavor to think about anything so forward-thinking as consequences and I made damned sure that the neighbors saw me buying pool floaties and plastic buckets of chlorine every once in awhile. Every time he came to me with some new system or component for the bunker he was obviously excited about, I gave him the same deadpan look of annoyance I’d given him the time before. I’m not proud of this, but I learned early on with this project that he KNEW it was nuts and if I acted recalcitrant enough he’d end up adding something into those online shopping carts of his to placate me and give him leeway to do whatever crazy ass thing he was considering next without the associated wife-guilt. This is how I ended up with a summer and fall wardrobe, a top-of-the-line crafting cut-out machine, and enough rings, necklaces, bracelets, and lockets to electroplate a chicken. Like I said...I’m not overly proud of it, but I like stuff and David likes doing stuff so it seemed like a good compromise. If you want my honest opinion, I was convinced he would lose initiative on the whole project when he saw how much effort was actually going to be involved. Even when he busted out the spreadsheets to make sure he quantified the relative shelf life of various canned goods and started bagging his own desiccant pouches to put in the buckets of rice, I was anxiously awaiting the next distraction that would pull his attention away and hoped we wouldn't be bankrupt by the time it snared his interest. Of course that didn’t happen. He finished the bunker in our backyard, destroying the lawn, my community reputation for telling the truth, and our credit rating in the process. To add insult to financial injury, the world promptly ended three weeks after the cement dried, and now we’re bunker people. Now, every day is an exercise in repetition. I wake up and start on the daily chores required to maintain life in the end times, giving my David a sweet kiss before I tie my hair back and get busy. In a lot of ways, the end of the world made me a much more dutiful wife than I ever was before entering my mole-man period. I finish the chores in record time each day, as experience and muscle memory make the tasks go faster. Each day kind of blends together because one thing bunkers are not known for is having a lot of natural light, and you’d be amazed how important the sun actually is to marking the time. Modern technology can do a lot, but a digital clock doesn’t hold the same kind of visceral truth as a ball of fire a million miles above. The first chore each period of wakefulness is the hygiene requirement. Water is supplied to the bunker through a bizarre new age condensation tubing rig that David found on a DIY site called Instructable, which means that every 4 hours you generate 2 new gallons of potable water, and if you want to have enough for an honest to God shower you have to skip rations for almost 16 hours to have enough in the tank. We learned early that if you can only afford one shower a week, then daily attention with a wet washcloth is the only way to keep the smell at bay. Cosmo never had a single article on how to make yourself attractive to your man armed only with a wet washcloth, which is the type of thing I’d write a letter of complaint about if I still had a mailbox. Next, a quick breakfast of canned disappointment and right back into the chores. Trash is compacted and shredded, the fish are fed and a twenty minute session with the hand pump for the aquaponics setup is enough to cycle the tank water back into the trays for the next growing day. Forty minutes of strategic pruning of the lichen trays and lettuce plants for the daily roughage follows, and then the vegetables are placed in plastic bags and submerged in the same tank with the fish to keep them chilled for longer. Next is probably the most disgusting part of my day, and the part that David had to work hardest at convincing me was necessary to keep us healthy over the long term. I swallow whatever bile has accumulated at the thought since the last time I had to do this and make my way to the worm farm. Maintaining a proper balance of minerals, vitamins, and metals can be done in a few different ways when you can’t hit up a grocery store for different ingredients at the drop of a hat. Multi-vitamins are great and part of any preppers messkit, but as with anything else that is finite in supply they eventually run out and David knew there would be no way to replace them. General run-of-the-mill topsoil actually contains almost all of the vitamins and minerals required by the human body, but eating dirt isn’t really something that is an option. Earthworms spend their entire existence burrowing through the soil, and in so doing actually absorb massive amounts of beneficial things into their own body. David set up a closed environment walled in by lumber and fed by our waste water and latrine, and there are whole generations of earthworms in that trough. Each day I have to pull about 30 of the things out of the dirt and start drying them under a heat lamp. And if that wasn’t cruel and gross enough, I then have to take the worms from the day before and grind them with a mortar and pestle until they’re literally powdered, and then sprinkle them over the food at meals like some sort of macabre all-spice. After culling entire civilizations of earthworms, I do a full hour on the stationary bike to make sure the batteries have enough charge to run the lamps for the next 8 hours and to exhaust myself too much to dwell on what I’ve just done, then I take a well deserved break. David earns another kiss around this time and I play a few games of solitaire to keep the noodle sharp in the midst of dark times. Sudoku was my go-to for the first few months, but eventually reality and mathematics began to lose their distinction in the wake of rapidly approaching madness and I had to eat the Sudoku book in order to gain its power. The next few hours are usually spent on maintenance for the machines which keep the air circulating and fresh, and which also filter out a bunch of contaminants that we’re pretty sure are still in the air outside the bunker. There are systems in place that play terrifying alert noises when the air is getting stale or the system detects something toxic, and a bunch of “manual air-cycle” programs that replenish the air inside from a tank of the liquid stuff until the outside air is safe to breath again, but we haven't had to use most of that. The system itself may have been DIY, but the open source control software was made by nerds with porn addictions so it’s pretty sound. Around this part of the day I typically wallow in self pity for a period of time and dwell on the sequence of events that led to our present circumstances. Even though everyone had known for a while that the war was coming, when it finally happened it still caught the country by surprise. Not a lot of warning when the sirens went off, and communications were the first thing to go dark on us. The first bombs fell within hours of rush hour, so most of the country probably never even got a chance to make use of whatever preparedness strategies they had been able to cobble together. Thank goodness I had humored David and allowed him to build us this suffocating refuge from the bombs, or at least didn’t complain loudly enough for him to actually give up on it. I was scared then. Nowadays I'm too bored to be scared, but at least I have my David to kiss whenever I want to. I give him one more peck for good measure and let myself go insane for a few minutes before bedtime. The urge to open the hatch and climb out is always the most overwhelming right before bed as I contemplate another day without change or flavor. We have no idea what the world outside is like; as long as the food lasts-we have to play it safe. Thankfully, David is there to stop me from going out whenever my itch becomes too great to ignore. He's hanging there from the hatch like a guardian. Framed in the beautiful golden locket that I had insisted he get me as payment for putting up with his “insanity”, he looks back at me with that goofy face - a picture from our wedding day. I can't help but give that face another kiss. That face that keeps me safe in here. I wish he hadn't gone to work that day. Maybe he made it somewhere safe. Maybe tomorrow he will open the hatch and laugh at the girl married to his locket. Maybe tomorrow…. Maybe…. I hate the apocalypse. Nicolas Sexton lives in Muncie Indiana with his wife Kristen and two children Declan and Malcolm. He is not currently forced to eat government cheese and Raman noodles, but does so anyway.
0 Comments
It is my pleasure to introduce my friend and colleague in this month's spotlight , Shawnie Hamer. ~Noah  Bio Shawnie Hamer (she/her) was born in the heat & dust of Bakersfield, CA. Her first book, the stove is off at home (Spuyten Duyvil, 2018) is an experimental art & poetry book curated through a community ritual focused on the identification & exorcism of trauma. Hamer is the founder of collective.aporia, an international arts collective offering monthly workshops & *apo-press. Her latest manuscript, The Rage That Raised Us (formerly The Rage That Raised Them) was a finalist in the 2021 Essay Press Book Content, judged by Ronaldo Wilson. She proudly received her MFA from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University where she was able to befriend the most inspiring group of artists she's ever met. She lives in France. Q&A: What inspired you to manifest Collective Aporia? Collective.aporia was manifested from a deep longing for community. In 2018, I was traveling by myself around Europe. I purchased a one-way ticket and was planning to mosey my way around from country to country, working freelance gigs and odd jobs for room and board until the money ran out. The year before, I had graduated from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University. It was there that I had been lucky to find and establish an incredible writing community (a family of writers, really) that had opened my eyes to the inspiration and influence of a collective. In fact, my entire writing process had shifted because of it. What had previously been a somewhat lonely act was now infused and supported by the love and insight of my friends/teachers. Needless to say, I was missing this dearly on the road. I wished they were with me. And what’s more, I was meeting other creatives on my trip that I wished I could introduce to my community back home. On New Year’s Eve 2018, I stood outside the home of an artist I was staying with in Kendal, United Kingdom, drinking cheap champagne, and a question came to me: how can I create a space for community and creativity that can be accessed by everyone at every time? The next morning, I began writing down every idea I could think about it. What it would look like, how it would exist in the world. When I went back to visit Colorado that following spring, I shared the idea with Sarah Richards Graba, Swanee Astrid, and Vera Linder over cocktails in Swanee’s apartment. It was from there that we began solidifying the dream together. What Draws you to poetry, writing, and the arts? I view this question through the lens of two roles: writer and collective member. They are not separate by any means, but an oscillation of energy that has greatly impacted my life. As a writer, really for as long as I could remember, I have been drawn to writing and reading because of its ability to recreate the world. In the pages of a text, we can reimagine both the mundane and the fantastic. As a little girl, I would create forts protected by teddy bears and books, where I would go to explore both the light and dark aspects of life in the pages of my journal. It was at once a safe place (maybe the safest) while also incredibly vulnerable—a practice in taking a leap into the unchartered rooms of imagination. When I finally grew enough to leave my fort, and then leave my hometown, I began to fully realize that the intentions that creatives can have for this kind of exploration, as well as the influence it can hold on society/a person’s life, was powerful. Maybe the most powerful and consistent force throughout history. I examined how creatives could bend and break the rules and edges that I was banging my head against. How they could even expand borders and boundaries of the self. Now, as a JKS grad, I am obviously very influenced by Anne Waldman and the work she has done over her incredible life. Not only has she amassed an outstanding library of work, but at every step along the way, she has created radical and safe spaces for her writing communities. She has truly been in service to poetry for over 60 years. It is this service that draws me to my work in the collective and the writing that ensues. I want to create texts and spaces that create homes. Places for joy, growth, and grief. Spaces for connection and empathy. I want to give back to poetry and the love it’s given me. It’s this love, this radical love, that will always keep me coming back. Do you have any tips for others that want to do what you do? The first (and most important) is to find your people! Collective.aporia would not have been and would not be without the steadfast volunteers and friends that dedicate their time and care to it. Find the people who believe in your vision, that are not afraid to challenge and expand it, and that want to see it manifest with the same level of excitement as you do. The second is to try to not do everything at once. It’s a sure-fire way to burnout, but it’s also really enticing. Find the focus of your dream and work diligently on that. Once you’re established, then you can begin expanding your operations. Lastly, don’t get so caught up in your service that you let your own creative practices go to the wayside. It is so easy to do; I’ve done it and I’ve seen so many others do it, too. You must fill your own cup before you can fill anyone else’s. Not only is a form of self-care, but it’s also important to remember that being a collective member requires creativity. If that well is dry, your participation, and therefore the organization itself, will suffer. Devotion Sequence
I. Primary Desire In the beginning it was just this: all the known things we can no longer see. That you no longer know. The moment the ice breaks. The water freezes. The smell of spices on the stove. I come to you now, and I’ve all but forgotten. The first inclining towards divine, loving you. As I prepared to leave, the ghosts descended. To help me pack my belongings, nothing actually mine. The dusty altar candles, the string of orange lights, the books stacked one by one. The home I created at once sacred infestation: A queue of spirits knocking on the door. An army of mice under the sink. The neighbor with the shotgun under my feet. It was here I told you of my dreams. The way the sheets moved under and around our bodies. The ancestor with the tendency to push her hands down on my chest, to see, she said. You have to stay here to see. So, I left. Sold my 28 years piece by piece in the front yard. To strangers with noisy minivans and sweaty pits. Much to the neighbors’ chagrin. What is it about travelers that we find so intriguing, untrustworthy? Abandoning the address, the daily routine, must mean something is amiss. It’s true, something’s not right. The wall you helped me build is crumbling, and I can do nothing to fortify the structure. I’ve also grown fond of hallucinating, in red wine and cigarette haze. Watching the faeries. Playing Sound & Color on repeat as I see the future appear in front of me, through the pines. The Eiffel Tower, your coming. The hot lightness of my body in the claw foot tub or the Mediterranean Sea. You don’t believe me, but I didn’t flee. I didn’t realize it at the time. No, back then when we sat on benches and snowy bar patios, I told you I was desperate to escape. The 12-hour work days, pouring drinks and teaching APA to community college warriors. The way your eyes changed when you mentioned her name. The feeling—no, the knowing—that this city, every city, is just out of reach. All the things you knew deeply when you first arrived aren’t known here, the past life reader explains when I ask about love. Here’s what I know for sure: I learned the most about God when I defied the people who guarded the gates. Breached the baptismal pool, wet and heavy. Imagined the faces—the ones not readily available in such a dusty town. The ones in foreign lands, who called to God differently. Or not at all. And when I called upon the broken stewards outside of the city limits, I opened to the possibility. The holiness of the underbelly. God is not stationary, like the pronunciation of a word. But rather is people, which is to say, never still. A movement. To surrender to the unknown often means saying goodbye. Here’s what I know for sure: To find God travel was to find the ability to love you. According to farmer's almanacs. The term Sturgeon Moon was popularized by the Native Americans of the Great Lakes region. They depended greatly upon a large harvest of Sturgeon this time of year for survival. Other connections could be the western pagan holiday season of Lughnasadh or Lammas (bread day). Sometimes these festivals would last for the entire month as people celebrated and feasted while bringing in the first harvest. It's a good time to savor the blessings of your own skills and those near you. Noah Christie, Blog Editor Full Aquarius Moon 2022—We’re All Quirky Down Here… There is a calm sweetness to an Aquarius Moon native, an openness that compels almost any onlooker to be present in the self-simulated comfort. Here is the notion of how to not feel pressured about how to be, a healthy sense of detachment to keep logic flowing, even as the concept of emotions flit and sway the mind. The passing transit can be processed similarly. Bearing the emotions is a different duty from soaking them all in, despite the need to decipher the similar translations with either fated task. Another side of perception’s coin, if one would. It can be expansive in all notions for the people, and it can be for the better or worse (depending on all the transits in the factors), and even that will be packaged in some rationalized justification—these can be the villains who tend to make sense even through their tyranny. And let’s not forget, darlings, this is a NEW YEAR of HEEEAAATTTT, and multiple nations know by now. Rationality has the capability of evaporating. There may be some compelling to rebel for the occasion. Rebel for what? Yourself? For someone else? For the trees? Perhaps it’s possible a Summer of Cosmic Soul is flashing its way back to the now that we know. Here are a few key transits of this moon phase. To start, we have Sun opposite Moon. It is the very placement that makes a Full Moon happen, so it feels like public right to know that this transit might as well be described as one of the basics movers of anxiety. Caught between the vacillating extremes of the head and heart, it’s magnification of thought and feeling with the underlying concept of separation that inspire some version of a conniption. It’s energies and people at odds with one another because the ruler of identity and the ruler of the heart are in literal opposite signs. Aquarius and Leo are both Fixed. They have an unyielding quality, standing firm in their comforts and points. Aquarius is the breezy calculations of a hard drive. Leo is the bold, passionate vibe of a warrior. Both think they are correct, though the former functions on thought and the latter functions on feeling. And, once again, it’s too hot, too hot, too hot, lady. Better run for cover, better run for shade. Gaskets can blow at the Ego Death Show. Both have strength, but Aquarius will be absolutely icy with the viciousness while Leo will attempt full arson. How does one hold onto their sanity aka emotions while the skin is metaphorically on fire? One might be enticed to ask the planet. Moon conjunct Saturn can speak to nurturing boundaries and structures that can lead to some sense of progressive movement, maybe for the collective more so than just for one, though it could take a moment to realize it. What helps your heart feel grounded while in the same breath sets you free? What helps you feel creative in a way that feels like growth, like the surge of Cosmic Vibe that strums through you like the exact note, the exact word, the exact spark of passion that’s struck into the sky. How do you rebel for the greater good, knowing it might take lives in the most austere ways? The seriousness is real, and weigh heavy on the heart, it will. Moreover, it can inspire one to attempt to work through trauma and turmoil on their own instead of opening up about it to those with whom the connection needs to be made. The groove is still in the heart, and can’t you feel that heat? Saturn’s gonna make you sweat for that commitment, make it worth your heartbeat unless you say it’s not. What is your vow to protect and what is it tied to? Is it to your home, the hearth and sanctuary, your fortress of peacetitude? On what, or should I saw whom, does your dwelling lie? On Mother Earth, who, is once again at the moment, physically and metaphorically burning acres of her dermis by the untamed second. Even if not ignited by human ignorance, it certainly isn’t waiting on human genius to rectify it. It may be miles away from many of us at the moment, but what about the times it hasn’t been, those brief blinks where you could just make out that that wasn’t a normal cloud wafting over the mountains, that it didn’t move like the others and looked sootier. What will strike real rational pride in defending the stability you’ve come to create, and what will actually make you consider usurping all that you have ever known in the name of greater structure? Papa Saturn always wants an answer. Mama Moon will let you linger on it. You may need the muscle memory for the lesson later. Moon square Uranus might as well scream with a rhetorical tone, “Oh, Heather, do we need some damage control.” The heart may want to do unpredictable things, but is it worth it? What is worth to you? To the New World Order? Yes, we all have some semblance of both lashing and reaching out to the aforementioned order, but it holds the same power as the adage “One man’s trash is another’s treasure.” So what is the best answer for the All if one individual can “throw” it out just for another to “pick” it up? Poke and prod with trial & error, but how far are you willing to go for results? What unpredicted muscle memory is being triggered for you to remember what to do? It’s interesting that there seems to be so many more questions than answers, but that’s the power of Uranus—it constantly beckons curiosity as to why and what all of this is. Moon conjunct Ascendant is slightly odd because it’s dealing with a focal point that isn’t actually tangibly there, and since the ASC is the essentially everyone’s front door to their psyche, the results can vary. However, considering that even calculated intangible points can have a collective impact. It’s a time where how you present yourself and how you feel in the moment, which at other times could show a clashing, may actually reveal themselves to align as one coherent feeling, no matter how idiosyncratic the feelings and actions may be. Moon square Mars could open with “I don’t wanna fight, but I’ll do it for love.” A mofo will roll up if they have to, otherwise you will feel the simmering explosion awaiting to Pompeii your future days until you find a way to assuage and diffuse greased flames upon churning waters. What is the desire, the drive and goal seemingly being thwarted? What keeps your heart from victory? An echo is occurring, no coincidence when transits wave through with similar messages. How does your personal victory need to be nurtured? Is it conquering the fear or conquering something else? Mars is currently in Taurus, a sign that definitely gives you horns when felt fucked with enough. So now instead of Fixed Air and Fire clashing, it’s Fixed Air and Earth. Didn’t Twin Stevie warn you about the Landslide? Do earthquakes not thrill you enough? More mindfulness to not completely allow yourself to meltdown and self-destruct, no matter how it feels best for the greater good, is where true self-care resides. Saturn continues to show us that we will either do our work and he will take us with pride, or we will do, he will take us, and the lack of glory will resonate. Also, as we fluctuate through the processing shadows of the collective, we will see flashes of the past and future in one present blink. It has already shaken us—how will it move us forward? How do we see the bigger picture with enough compassionate detachment while tapping into some of the deepest yet simplest moments of human connection? The moon will definitely be cooler as we sweat out a new understanding, but the passion that leads to vibrantly creative yet stabilized view can ignite an entirely new scintillating sense of chilled confidence and calm. With any hope, the energies can one day be balanced between soothing the darkness and preserving the light in the most compassionate collective portrait possible. Simone Liggins earned her MFA in Writing at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics of Naropa University. The foundation for her love of writing and literature was paved at an early age and blossomed during her teenage years through the kind of tortured freedom that only the ostracism & funk-weirdness of being an African-American Gemini mystic can grant a person. Her various influences include but are not limited to: Sylvia Plath, Kurt Vonnegut, Dorothy Parker, Audre Lorde, Lenore Kandel, Laurell K. Hamilton, Octavia Butler, The Beatles, Lady Gaga, Fiona Apple, and Jimi Hendrix. Her work has been featured in Raven Chronicles, Buddy--A Lit Zine, BEATS Poetry Periodical, Boulder Weekly, Outsider Poetry, SurVision Magazine, Reject Press, Queen Mob's Teahouse, Visitant Magazine, S/tick Magazine, Petrichor Magazine, and work in the forthcoming publication Poemhood by HarperCollins.
The Full Moon in July (07/13/2022) is often referred to as the Buck Moon. The reason being that this is the time of year when deer antlers are in full growth. Many meanings come from this moon. It is also called the Meadow Moon or Blessing Moon. It is a time to see summer in full fruition. This is also the time to begin looking ahead to fall. The season is in full swing, but we should not forget that summer doesn't last forever. Enjoy this time of growth and plenty and also prepare for when the summer passes. Blessings and thanks to you all and our contributor. ~Noah [Full Moon Offering] - Airesa Cochran Remnants of deprivation are shed in curling rivulets prayers abandoned at the precipice memories of skin that could no longer cling on once soaked in hydroquinone phenidone sodium hydroxide Even strong legs and burden bearing hips retreat to the earth in anticipation of rain whether as heat conservation or submission to a shift in pressure is unknown But the wild game of consumption carries on despite cold fronts and joint pain There is praise to be found by the shoreline zip tie ceremony With fistfuls of eucalyptus and pearls sipping cowboy coffee from the cups of Temperance sick with nicotine and wanting. [Author Biography]
Airesa Cochran is a Colorado based poet and visual artist who graduated from Naropa University with a BFA in Creative Writing and Literature. Her work incorporates themes such as sensuality, abstract journey, religion and dreaming. I hope you all are having a most blessed summer. Here we have a full Moon offering from our friend, Lindsey Higo. Blessed be. ~Noah D. C.  Hello fellow moonbaskers and stargazers,
Summer heat is arriving fast, and my garden flourishes after the toils of spring planting. The Strawberry Moon, known also as the Honey or Mead moon, will arrive on June 14th, just one week ahead of the solstice. In many regions, June is the time that fruiting plants, like strawberries and their relatives, are gathered and fill our baskets to bursting. I often draw on these two words, abundance and gathering, when I welcome people into my social circle or space, especially around the Summer Solstice, as it is a day much anticipated in our home. An added level of excitement nudges at my thoughts as this will also be one of the supermoons of 2022. There is something so breathtaking as the moon crests over the horizon, appearing to swell and fill the sky. I’ve been known to stop what I’m doing, dash outside and take a few deep breaths as my skin tingles under its bright glow. The Strawberry Moon will be 222,238.4 miles (357,658km) from us, which in Earth miles is so far, yet in space might as well be next door. Regardless, you may be tempted to reach out… just to see if you can touch it after all. My days around the solstice used to be bustling with activity (moon basking aside). I made a point to seek out friends and welcome them into my home or garden. The bonds of these relationships grow a little differently on a summer evening. When the sun’s light turns soft, and the moon begins its ascent, the warm air mixes with the soft chorus of nature, urging us to slow down and recover from the heat of the day. It’s this perfect combination that invites people to linger at a gathering. In light of the changing world, the pace of my solstice celebrations has slowed and the gathering has grown smaller and more intimate, making the time I spend with others so precious. Even without the crowd of years past, I am still determined to prepare an appropriate offering to toast the season. This determination is not only rooted in being a good host but also as a cocktail enthusiast. While my journey with spirited beverages started as many of ours do, in the rowdy yards and packed homes of university students it was the years afterward, spent carefully reading, experimenting and tasting my way around the world that has given me an appreciation for the craft that I can’t help but share. Making and offering a flavorful balanced drink is an experience. You aren’t just combining liquids: there is a thoughtfulness for the occasion and an understanding of what flavors and palate suits your guest- especially during festive times of the year. I love the chance to give my guests something unique! There's a thrilling challenge to finding the right flavors to associate with celebrations and keep my guests' tastes a top priority. I hope with that inspiration and spirit in mind you will take time and join me in preparing a libation fit for toasting the light of the summer moon, solstice and in appreciation for those close to you. Strawberry Gin Punch Ingredients: 3oz gin of your choice: I recommend one with floral botanicals. Consider Empress 1908, The Botanist or Hendricks Midsummer Solstice. This spirit will be the heart of your drink so if the urge compels you, charge it under the full moon with the intention to share the abundance you have with those you are imbibing with. 1.5oz strawberry syrup: Create with the intention of sharing the bounty in your life whether it’s food, friends or family. Easily crafted with 5-6 large strawberries (sliced), 1 cup water and ½ cup honey, bring to a simmer for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until strawberries are very soft. Set aside until cool. Strain off the syrup into an airtight container. You can save the berry bits for later, for a simple jam for toast or for your compost or garden. .75oz fresh lemon juice: Draw in happiness and friendship. Embrace the lemon’s tartness to balance the sweetness of your other ingredients. Fresh rosemary sprigs: Gather from your garden or wherever you find herbs to encourage love for the self and those around you. Rosemary will also help lure out the botanical flavors present in the gin you have chosen. 1.5-2oz sweet sparkling wine or mead: A nod to European nicknames for this moon, you will top your cocktail with happiness and love. June is a traditional month for marriages but feel free to expand that energy into relationships both romantic and platonic, love abounds. Preparation: Combine all liquids, except for wine/mead, and several rosemary needles into a cocktail shaker. Add ice and shake about 15-30 seconds until the shaker is frosted over in your hand. Pour into your favorite stemmed glassware pre-chilled, until ¾ full. Top with wine or mead and garnish with a fresh sprig of rosemary. This recipe will yield two cocktails*, so invite someone into your garden or onto the porch for a sip and ask them to stay awhile. *You can also scale this recipe up for a communal punch bowl or pitcher to pass around, chill all ingredients in advance, combine, stir well in your container and top with your wine or mead just before guests arrive. Add an ice block or ice ring to keep it cool while you entertain. _____________________________________________________________________________________________ Lindsey Higo is a spirited hostess living in Denver, Colorado, who spends time puttering around her patio garden, reading on a dark and stormy night (or any night for that matter) and entertaining. Her cocktail crafting skills have been honed through years of trial and error and “here take a sip of this” is a key step in her creative process. When inspiration strikes you can find recipes and her favorite haunts on her Instagram @cocktail_curious. She is also an active member of the Japanese Tea community in Colorado where she practices the spirit of boundless guest hospitality and mindfulness in the principle of “ichi-go, ichi-e”/“one time, one meeting” taking it beyond the contemplative Tea space and into her home and community.  May Flower Moon It is a season of emergencies, of emergence. Daily these words circle my mind, an oscillating dance between danger and prosperity. They are somewhat dissonant yet insist upon pairing. They are inseparable, fitting, in an uncanny sort of way. I hold them closely, considering my own recent hospital stay that enlightened me to an underlying health condition. Before that, I had claimed to my friends that this year was my year, 2022 adding up to my lucky number six. The cosmos was on my side. Now I contemplate the coexistence of emergency and emergence. Curious, I look up their shared origin, Latin emergere, meaning to ‘become known, come to light.’ We are emerging from our state of emergency now, gently. For the first time in two years I can see the faces of strangers as I pass them on the street or we frequent the same coffee shop. I feel a lightness, almost a flutter, that I can see the subtle expressions of their face. We can breathe again, a cautious sigh. It feels tender, a soft vulnerability now sans mask. We’ve made it to this moment. We made it through the lock downs, the uncertainties, the vaccinations, the frustrations. The past two years were a long winter. I was slowed, dormant, kinetic potential growing more restless with each passing day. Now there is an opening, a light. This spring the world feels especially new. Every day I walk the same route through my neighborhood in the city. Early spring small bursts of green, pink, purple, and white began to line my walk as flowers awake from their dormancy in hardened earth. I noticed them emerging on my first walk after I was discharged from the hospital. Now they are in full bloom, bright, brilliant. I crave the natural among the urban, those delicate explosions along cracked concrete. Their change is slow, persistent. As I pass the same flowers, I observe their change. I feel the rising energy within myself to grow, expand, to take up more space. All the creative potential within me is boiling with elongated sunlight and warming air. The Flower Moon The Floor Moon reflects our associations with the symbolism of flowers. This is our time to experience new growth and vibrancy. It is a season of renewal and rejuvenation. We can feel these sensations course through our bodies as we step into the spring air and see the season’s new growth excelling. We feel lighter, buoyant, more energized. All that we have been storing and holding for the winter now has the space to release into something brilliant and new. To celebrate the Flower Moon, I invite you to create a Flower Book Folding, which I will detail below. Use your flower book to set poetic reflections and intentions. What within you is emerging? Where does this energy come from? Where will it go? Feel welcome to incorporate all what is inspiring you, all that is beautiful and exhilarating. Return to it frequently to see all that is giving you life. Flower Book Folding Materials: Paper (any paper–white, decorative, recycled, etc.), Glue, Scissors or X-Acto Knife and Ruler (optional) and/or Triangle (optional), Decorative Materials (pens, pencils, markers, stamps, paints, etc.) Step 1: If your paper isn’t already a square, you’ll need to turn it into one. Fold one corner across the paper and match the two edges. Fold it diagonally. If already a square, fold diagonally and skip to step 3. Step 2: You’ll have a strip of excess paper. With scissors or an X-Acto Knife with a Ruler and/or Triangle, depending on what you have available, remove the excess strip. You’ll now have your square with a diagonal fold. Step 3: Now fold your paper in half. Step 4: Fold your paper in half in the opposite direction. You should now have two perpendicular lines and a diagonal. Step 5: Two of the square sections have the diagonal crease. Bring their two corners together without folding. I find this assembly easier if I lift the paper off the table. Step 6: Holding those two corners, coax the diagonal creases to fold inward. Simultaneously, begin to close the two outer flat squares together. Step 7: Your paper should now be folded in the proper form, which I’ll call a petal. You’ll need to create four of them to complete your flower book binding. Repeat steps 1-7. Step 8: Once you have your four petals ready, you can join them for your flower. Line your petals up so they are facing the same direction. Step 9: Glue one flat side of a petal. Step 10: Press another petal onto the petal with glue by lining up either corners and edges; their openings should be in the same direction. Step 11: Repeat with each petal. You will have two outer squares with no glue or attachment. Now your flower book is ready! You can keep it pressed closed, relaxed on its side, or open on a flat surface so it looks like a lotus. Decorate or write in your flower book! You can visit the prompts I provided above or unleash your imagination. You can also experiment with different types of paper, using thread instead of glue, tearing edges for a more organic effect, etc. Once you know the fold, the creative possibilities are endless!   About the Author C. M. Chady holds her BA in Anthropology from Washington University in St. Louis and her MFA Creative Writing and Poetics from Naropa University’s Jack Kerouac School where she was the Anne Waldman Fellow. Her anthology Embodied Unconscious: the feminine space of sexuality, surrealism, and experimentation in literature is forthcoming with Spuyten Duyvil in 2022. She is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of the experimental literary magazine Tiny Spoon, in addition to serving as a member of Wisdom Body Collective, who recently published More Revolutionary Letters: A Tribute to Diane di Prima. Formerly, she was the Editor-in-Chief of *apo-press, Editor-in-Chief of Bombay Gin, and Managing Editor of River Styx. Her work spans multiple genres, including poetry, fiction, and hybrid forms. She has been published nationally and internationally in literary journals. More of her publications and work can be found on her website cmchady.com. Howdy, Knights of Aporia. We find ourselves this week on the cusp of April's Full Moon this week. The moon should be about at its fullest around 1-2PM EST Sat. This moon is most often called the Pink Moon. Many attribute the title Pink Moon to the abundance of pink flowers that bloom this time of year. This is also the Libra Moon, symbolizing balance in all things. Perhaps you celebrated the Sabbat of Ostara earlier this month or are planning to celebrate the high Christian holiday of Easter. Maybe you plan to engage your body in the spirit of spring. The common theme for this time is rebirth. The trials and changes we have all been through are becoming fertilizer from which life can spring. You are the bud transforming muck to beauty.
This is a good time to enjoy:
A Mantra: No foul menace can escape the grasp of my story. Blessed be, Your friend in the dark, Noah Christie  Happy spring, everyone! This coming weekend, we present our Saturday's Lumonics Immersed and Sunday's Tour of Lumonics. We hope to see you! Thanks to Alexander Kirk of 9News for recently featuring Lumonics: 9 Things to do in Colorado (9NEWS.com) DENVER — Immersive before it was trendy, “Lumonics Immersed” is a multi-sensory journey to refresh your body, mind and spirit, produced by one of the first and longest-running light art studios in the U.S. The experience features original special effects, music and video projection and light sculptures. The next date at Lumonics Immersed is Saturday at 8 p.m. at the Lumonics Light & Sound Gallery at 800 E. 73rd Ave. Unit 11 in Denver. Reserve your tickets at Lumonics.net/immersed Saturdays 8:00 PM– 10:30 PM $20 Immersions are never repeated. The Elements: - Mel and Dorothy Tanner’s Light Sculptures connected to DMX * - Original Special Effects, Music and Video Projection - DMX and the special effects orchestrated live by Lumonics’ Marc Billard * a lighting system to control the LED light sculptures Since Dorothy Tanner passed in July, 2020, we have been restoring many light sculptures never before seen in Colorado. Some needed repairs, and all needed to be converted to LEDs. Most were in the original Lumonics Theatre in Miami. Their addition has helped make Lumonics Immersed a more powerful transport vehicle in keeping with the mission of Mel and Dorothy Tanner to affect people on physical, emotional, mental and spiritual levels. The performance music was composed by Dorothy when she was in her 70s and 80s. The visuals are derived from hand-painted slides by the Tanners, and videos by the Tanners and Tanner/Billard. We now present this every Saturday. + Second Sunday Free Guided Tour 1pm -2:30pm Upcoming Dates: April 10 and May 8 “Lumonics is offering Second Sunday Guided Tours of their Light & Sound Gallery. Barry Raphael, a longtime Lumonics member and co-archivist, will act as tour guide, inviting visitors to immerse themselves in light and color, view works by the late artists Dorothy and Mel Tanner and learn about the history of the collective." - Denverite Light complimentary refreshments are served at both events. “A far cry from the quietude more typical of the average art exhibit, Lumonics’ gallery space is a welcome bombardment of the senses, with a rich history to boot.” John Mazzetta, Editor of The Sentry, Univ. of Colorado Denver Above photos by Enzi Gaydos Articles about Lumonics Wishing everyone well! Barry, Barbara, and Marc From The Collective series Collective.aporia is proud to present our From The Collective series, where members of the collective share their work and the inspiration, process, or story of how their piece came to be. This series will be accompanied by our video series Behind The Writing. The wind blows around you, tucking tighter to your only coat, the only thing protecting you from the elements and everyone else. The sky grays sometime in early October, though it’s hard to tell time anymore. No watch, no calendar—sometimes you ask gas station attendants what’s the time, what’s the date. Time really has no measure any longer, it’s just a notch on some wall. During the breezy months before the snow you spend as much time outside as possible, stuck in your parka both to get used to the wrapping warmth and used to the cold that dries your lips. You can’t suck on them, you can’t lick them, it’ll get worse. One spring you had a whole mouth flecked in white, spreading across your cheek and down your chin. You were fourteen and everyone was convinced you had somehow contracted herpes of the mouth. You spread petroleum jelly on the dryness and by the fall, it was gone. It hasn’t been a problem since, but you aren’t taking chances. There isn’t a thing in the world that has a zero chance of coming back. Tenth street smells like Halloween smoke, almost like firework smoke with its faint bite in the air, but a little heavier, a little sweeter. Fog machines and burning jack-o-lanterns. You know the roads along here, it’s hard not to count once you know how. Down by a schoolyard, there are swinging tetherballs and swaying monkey bars. It’s an hour before sundown. You know the place where children hide. A boy huddles underneath the yellow slide, knees up to his chest, brown hair dirty with red leaves and white twigs. Because you and he wear a green parka, you feel some pity for him, crying underneath the playground slide with no one near. The way the metal clangs in the breeze, the steady crying of the child near you, it coalesces into a rhythm that strikes right in the hips. Bemused, you follow the urge, swinging them and stamping your feet. The boy peers in your direction, alerted by rubber slapping on concrete. You raise your arms to the clouds in the sky and scream. Your wail rips your throat and the sky, carving a black stripe down the middle where you can see the stars and the lines that meet their constellations together. Ursa Major, Draco, Cygnus, Orion all look down at your dance and the boy crawling out from underneath the slide. He stands near you on the other side of a chain link fence and lifts his arms like you do, carving through the wind in angular poses. When he screams, it’s an octave higher, harmonizing dissonant sharp against your voice. It’s weak and breathy, but the way he keeps screaming through the hiccups of vocal chords smashing against each other says all you need to know. Across the road, along the new sealed blacktop of the street, a crowd of people stand at the crosswalk. The lights flash for them to move, but they do not. Whatever people they are, they are a mix of ages, sizes, and emotions. Anger, delight, cruelty, pride, all mix into a group identity, the desire to torture and see the target overcome. Both his and your eyes are on them, watching you spin and press your feet to the ground in wild patterns. The group begins to dissipate with each of your stomps, one person at a time, walking down the opposite streets, into alleyways and across lawns toward the sunsetting. This dance continues until the street lamps switch on, silhouetting your shapes on the grass. The boy stops and stares at the last figure on the corner, the same size as he. You spin, your head whirling and your eyes goggling around your skull. Once your vision focuses, you step toward the figure on the corner and the shape dissipates into the dark. You hook your head up, staring at the stars. Whether or not the boy can share the rest of this experience doesn’t matter anymore. He has been born and will do what he needs to do now that he has shed the umbilical cord. What’s hung in the sky only reflects your face. Behind The Writing Head to our Instagram or Twitter to watch Collective.aporia member and author H. P. Armstrong talks about their inspiration behind Maenad Weather and the story of how the piece came to be. H. P. ARMSTRONG (he/they) is a writer from the Chicagoland area. He has a BA from the Jack Kerouac School. His work has appeared in KYSO Flash, Punch Drunk Press, Plains Paradox, and worldwide with Nota Bene. H. P. cares a lot about trans poetics, horror, and divinity--he is currently working on his first novel about the intersection of those three. Currently he lives in Colorado with his partner and mother in law, working for a community college as administration staff.
Merry meets everyone! It would seem we have made it through another winter. It is often believed that this Moon is called the Worm Moon because the soil is soft and warming and the worms start to pop from the earth and birds get their tasty little treat and life comes springing back! I drew a card with all of you in mind and found the Queen of Swords. She advises us to begin fostering practical wisdom and bring our winter fancies to life. So, wake up those muscles and rub the dream dust from your eyes. It's a brand new day.  |
Authorcollective.aporia Archives
September 2022
Categories
All
© 2019-2021 collective.aporia
|
RSS Feed
