For some reason, my father chose to move into a house, on the North West side of Oklahoma City. As memories of the house are recalled, my Mother will say the move was motivated by his want to be as far away from her side of the family as possible. Built in the 1940's, I remember walking through the house after we closed, I'm four or five, and believing every part was absolutely magical. I do not think I had ever seen an attic before. Dad will renovate, nearly the entire property, but my favorite parts remain the spaces that were a bit sketchy. Mom let us roller-blade in the house and as you went from one end to the other, a significant slant downwards would give you a good amount of momentum. The living room had a beautiful, huge, double pane window, that would fill up with water, like a fish tank, when we got rain. There was a large mulberry tree in the backyard, under a wood fort we would make mud pies with miniature wild onions, even though we were only minutes from dow...
We are all constantly invited to be Who We Are, breaking past barriers that mask our true self is where true, ultimate freedom lies. Let this space serve as a community safely bearing the yoke of what is making us Who We Are and how we are pivoting towards finding ourselves. "Not Till We Are Lost Do We Begin To Find Ourselves" Henry David Thoreau