This is the beginning of my story. I could regale you with facts, instead I’m going to tell you a campfire tale. As I tell this story, I may tend to sound very fantastical. When I am becoming fantastical, it means that there are no words I have been able to find to better describe what I and others have seen of our collective experience. My fantastical tales have always been open and flexible with change. In other words, if you have a better way to describe it, I am all ears!
I can begin from several different contexts. I can begin from a logical standpoint. I can begin from an emotional one. There is also a cultural one, a science-fiction one, or a spiritual one. Maybe, I will weave them all together.
To weave this story together, we must begin in 1943, when J. Robert Oppenheimer began assembling a team of scientist in Los Alamos, New Mexico. You can read about Oppenheimer and his work on the Manhattan Project here: https://www.osti.gov/opennet/manhattan-project-history/index.htm
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I will continue this story as it comes up. I have more pressing things right now that I need to attend to. For now, keep these maps in mind. Especially when you consider the context that my ancestral family, including myself, come from Socorro, New Mexico.
I’ve lived much of my life in liminal spaces — between roles, between cultures, between the person I had to be and the person I’m finally becoming. I write from that threshold, where the seen and the felt overlap and where meaning reveals itself in fragments before it ever becomes whole.
My work is an attempt to gather those fragments: the ache, the clarity, the contradictions, the quiet moments of recognition that shape a life from the inside out.
If there’s a thread through all of it, it’s this: I believe in naming what is true, even when it’s tender.