I was raised by...

the enchanted hills, sturdy oaks, and wild fog of the East Bay Area, home to hawk messengers, horse-allies, mud-footed friends, secret creeks, and childhood worlds. first peoples: Bay Miwok, Chochenyo, Muwekma, Ohlone.

San Francisco, regenerating city of pasts and futures, births, deaths, sojourns, and dérives. first peoples: Muwekma, Ramaytush, Ohlone.

Hawaii, islands. black rock depths travel so deep they touch the  sky. land of myth and mirrors, resurgence and reckoning. my ancestors weave a tangled web through your canopies. first, still, and future people: Kanaka Maoli.

Mojave Desert, place of sun, wings, prophecy, industry, and sacred forgetting. launch-pad for orbits to other worlds. home to the Kitanemuk and Kawaiisu tribes.

the hard-edged, sweet-songed, gold-bored foothills of Nevada County and the lands that branch in granite above its blue-green rivers and hot-tempered core. land who conscience looks like sun on black rock and whose place-keepers remind me what it means to maintain integrity with inner/outer worlds. land whose Nisenan name “Ustama” means “from among us.” 

that place that resists language, where we sometimes fall and fall back to ourselves when doors open below. among many other names: underworld, otherworld, elsewhere, loam.