a field report from the organized chaos of my creative space…
🌃Opening Transmission
March revealed more patterns that emerge in nearly every interaction if you’re paying attention: the gap between what is presented by someone, and what is actually happening underneath that proverbial white-board. Almost everything I wrote this month circles that concept in different forms; performance, silence, contradiction, and those tense moments where things aren’t fully aligning; don’t resonate. What happens in that split second pause?
🌹 March Love Note: a notice of your existence; a poem – Grids and Wind
✍🏻 Threads: Last, the same tension surfaced repeatedly; the quiet instability that forms when perception and reality don’t match. It arrived in different ways across these pieces, sometimes directly, sometimes simmering quietly underneath my skin.
Women Who Stare at Walls (read on Substack)
→ When the Pedestal Wobbles
→ Unless I Have a Mallet
→ The Quiet Work of Choosing Myself
Sevenlines (read on Substack)
→ Sevenline No. 23: A Life With No Gravity
→ The Queen Who Remembers Herself (guest post by Jacqueline J. Jarvis)
→ Tsunami
Paper Paint Blood (read on Substack)
→ Eye of the Mother
→ What We Hold In Our Eyes
Centarficus (read on Substack)
→ Undocumented Hominins, Environmental Shielding, and the Limits of Detection
→ The Long Awakening
✨ Featured Work: One piece that held it’s weight in words…
Who broke you in half and defined it as discipline?
Who starved your worth and told you to feast only when they approved?
Who whispered that love was something earned through obedience,
through silence,
through staying small?
Who closed your eyes so tightly that your dreams suffocated behind your lashes?
Who poured shame into your bloodstream,
so that even your laughter began to feel guilty?
Who made your love die slowly;
a soft fading star,
until every fiber, every trembling cell inside you
ached with the weight of a heartbreak you didn’t cause?
📖 I finished writing a book I never intended to write.
This wasn’t the plan. It was the result.
Last year I started writing a few reflective pages with a plan to go on a quiet excavation about my own attachment patterns, why I love like a lit match, run like a frightened rabbit, and read a room before I open the door. Two hundred and fifty pages later, I’m staring at a manuscript. Apparently, when I go inward, I don’t visit. I move in.
Now these pages are with my editor, which is another way of saying I’ve submitted my psyche for many line edits. There will be red ink. There will be ego deaths. There will be sentences I adored that must be gently strangled for the greater good of you, the reader. This is the refinement of a manuscript; the slow walking through fire.
And still, it was worth it.
Every uncomfortable mirror I gazed at myself in. Every night I sat with my own stupid contradictions. I carved until something honest stood upright on the page and smiled back at me. Damn.
If you’re the type who likes to slip in an atta-girl before the curtain rises… here’s an easy way to do that.
🚨A system is coming, and it’s epic. →→ https://venniekocsis.com/dea-subscribe
🎨 Featured Art: Visual Work From the Gallery
The Storyteller’s Secret – collage art
Watch me make this page:
⚙️Featured Object:
Until You Walk In My Shoes STFU
swag merch…
🎯My Target Focus
- Staying steady in the slow times
- Acknowledging my struggles. Not miminizing my needs.
- Remaining in resonance; in listening, and accepting what comes.
February gathered up all my words, put a bow on them, and now they’re sitting here wagging their tails at you, so take what you need, stay as long as you like, and know I wrote every line with lucidity, and a lot of passion.
☾ Here’s a prompt to help you drop me a comment below: What stood out to you the most in this month’s curation?🔷
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Vennie Kocsis 