Column: Le Coeur et la Mer

I. The Intrusion (Summer 2005)

At first, I thought she was simply a delusion. Looking back, I had every reason to think so. I was a month into recovering from a traumatic incident that left both my brain and my body in a compromised state when the dreams started. Slowly, subtly at first, but over the course of a few weeks she had become a nightly presence.

Column: Familial Spirits and Old Furniture

I. If determined enough, the dead can assert themselves to appear nearly as present as the living. And if one who is noticing and interacting with them does not know they are dead, and/or they are too young to comprehend what dead even is, the distinction between dead and living becomes rather confusing if not at times completely irrelevant. This was my experience, anyway. What I believe to be my earliest memory, for example, seems quite average on its surface.

Column: Colonialism and its Discontents

I. Migration

“no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark…”

According to the United Nations, there are currently more displaced people on the planet than at any other time in recorded history. Nearly sixty million people have fled or have been driven from their homes on account of war, violence, political destabilization, or severe economic conditions, compared to around 38 million a decade ago. 1 out of every 122 humans on this planet is currently a refugee, and 9 out of 10 of them are in regions considered to be underdeveloped by international standards. While the Syrian war is currently the largest contributor to such displacement, displaced people hail from every corner of the world, from Haiti to Pakistan to Senegal to Colombia.

Column: To Crave the Luxuries of ‘Coincidence’

I. July

“The gods are making it clear that I really need to walk more,” I said to Rhyd as we walked through downtown Portland on the way to the bus stop. “But I’ll admit it, I’m stubborn. I really like my bike. And I know I’m screwing myself over on many levels, from simply needing to be in shape for the trip to the whole ‘let’s not ignore the gods’ thing.

Column: The Perseverance of Memory

I. The Silence (December 2013)
It was the last city council meeting of the year on a frigid, snowy evening two weeks before Christmas, and the immediate future of the Whoville encampment was on the line. A few days earlier, the police department had made public its intentions to evict the 50-person camp sometime within the coming weeks. The thought of so many people being tossed back onto the streets around Christmas time had prompted a community response unlike any I had seen before up to that point. In the hour or so before the meeting, the plaza outside City Hall quickly became a crowded scene with protests, press conferences, and media interviews simultaneously occurring as council members started to filter into the building.