Thursday, August 12, 2010


Someone said that the flat floor was a form of colonialism. The colonialism of straight lines and linear thought on a world of curves and complex textures.

While at Shangri-la, Jason's secret camping spot, a spot that requires bushwhacking through the forest, that requires climbing down a cliff while hanging onto dubious trees and even more dubious ferns, and finally a precarious hike upriver over sometimes-slippery rocks and boulders; it occurred to me that being there was a process of decolonizing my body.

A process of re-awakening my body to its inherent capacity to attend to and negotiate the complexities of the world.

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