Skip to main content

may 11 {the happy story of a broken wing}

On the way home from my mom's birthday celebration last Saturday, I decided to take my little one to the park in order to run off some of the butter cream high.  The weather was more like a hot, wilting July day rather than the kind of weather that inspires May flowers, so I took him to a local park that I knew had a fountain thinking we might get a little refreshing splash.  Well, the fountain was on, but much to our dismay it was not the kind of water that beckoned ones toes to cool off in as it was an unsettling shade of green and filled with flotsam and jetsom.
Luckily, the twin fountains had the appeal of a little bridge that ran between them and my little one could not resist the urge to stand aloft and plop a few stones down into the murky depths, one of his current faves with any available body of water.  As we stood atop the bridge, I noticed right away this bright, white thing amidst the algae.  It looked like a small broken wing, and it both tugged on my heartstrings and enticed my inner treasure hunter.  It was, of course, at the fountains deepest part, and there was no way I was going in that water especially with the giant signs that flanked the pools warning of chemicals and watchful law enforcement.
But I thought about that little wing all weekend. 

So, yesterday I finally decided to go on a rescue mission, packed my rain boots and my little partner in crime into the car and headed back to the park.  The day was a stark contrast to the other day's visit, gray, cool and even a little misty, and my son was excited to go fetch the wing remembering the tiny unreachable trinket too.  The water was deeper than I had expected, but as luck would have it a gardener was tending the grounds of the park and had a wheel barrel full of tools, from which I immediately thought to borrow a long handled rake or shovel.  Truth be told I would have waded in this time, determined and my mind set on something there is little that would stand in my way, and a slimy stroll and a hot shower would have been worth it.  Instead, I easily scooped it out with the shovel and upon first glance at the delicate porcelain, wayward wing, knew it was meant to be a talisman and good luck charm - one that feels more filled with flight and hope than the need fix something that is broken.  

Say what you will.  Alex even chuckled a bit at the obvious cliche when I showed it to him and told him the story of my slightly obsessive adventure, one that my little guy enthusiastically backed me up on I might add.  I'm happy to laugh at the ridiculousness of me wading into a town fountain to fish out a broken piece of junk and how absurd that probably seems because, all in all, the whole thing just makes me happy.

Editorial note:  This story actually took place last May, and the wing sits on my studio table still making me smile every time I look at it, a small but monumental reminder that whatever speaks to you is always worth going after!  So keep digging, wandering and diving...and eventually you will find your wings too.  


Popular posts from this blog

Inner Alchemy Cards: Build A New World Deck

Our next make-your-own card adventure is finally here! Inner Alchemy Collage: Build A New World Deck (online) is an artful exploration of language, learning, inspiration, and collaboration, that delves into important ideas around activism and systems of oppression. This is a way for us to examine and disrupt harmful dominant narratives, tell new stories, and inspire one another to use our creativity and personal power to help build the collective world we all want to live in! In the end you will have a beautiful and meaningful handmade deck of 35 oracle cards to use as unique a tool for guidance and reflection whenever you need it.  I'm your host,  Mindy Tsonas Choi , an artist, organizer, radical belonging activist, and the founder of the Be Seen Project - a grassroots initiative resourcing BIPOC artist and makers working in activism. Join me along with other stellar artists, makers and co-creators who have also been exploring social justice and activism as part of their creativ

The Cost of Selling Belonging

As someone who use to sell belonging and believed I was creating something universally magical , I now have fresh eyes on the harm that I once caused. I understand what can (and was) incredibly healing and impactful for some, was at the same time excluding, marginalizing and undervaluing others. First, to anyone who ever felt like they did not belong to anything I created because they were unable to afford it or felt like they did not have the social capitol to join -  I am sincerely sorry for not seeing you sooner .   To our entire creative community as a whole, I urge us all to think about belonging in new and equitable ways, and to do the work of dismantling these hierarchical structures that leave so many people out of the circle. We all deserve to have access to creativity and belonging, and I'd go so far as to say both are fundamental basic human needs and rights. Selling belonging can look like... Creating spaces and experiences that can only be accessed by buying in at one,

what's in a name?

It’s May 14, 2020 and I’m on a transnational call with a social worker and translator of the SOS Children’s Village offices in South Korea. It’s 7pm my time and 9am the next day in Korea, which adds to the surreal quality of the moment. It is my first long distance call following my inquiry with the organization documented to be my first place of entry into the system, found in my Korean records (the acquisition of which is an incredible story in and of itself). It was July 21, 1972 and I was 5 months old. It’s a small miracle the organization still exists, and an even bigger blessing that they took such time and care in searching for information and to talk it all through with me in person. I try not to cry as the call connects. What I learn is a lot of small details about that fateful evening which amount to nothing traceable, but still feel like huge missing pieces of my life. I was left near the entrance around 7pm under a small tree, wrapped in a blanket with only a name scribble