Intangible Heritage
What happens to the stories and traditions we inherit as they travel across generations, across borders, and through time?
What happens to the stories and traditions we inherit as they travel across generations, across borders, and through time?
I went looking for words in someone else’s writing. I hadn’t anticipated finding words for my own story.
I thought I was simply explaining my research to an ethics committee. Instead, I found myself understanding it in an entirely new way.
There are objects that quietly accompany us through whole chapters of our lives, collecting memories until the day comes when we have to let them go.
I love the unexpected tangents that emerge during counselling sessions—and the things I learn when conversations wander somewhere I never anticipated.
I have discovered two words that should never be used when describing the week ahead: “quiet” and “busy”. Apparently, both are invitations for the universe to prove me wrong.
Perhaps the stories we inherit are not carried forward word for word, but in the feelings, images, and truths that remain long after the details have been forgotten.
When the person being cared for says what they need — and is not heard.
The most important writing is not always done at a desk. It begins in the quiet places where the mind is finally free to wander.
Naming a methodology is not always a neutral act. The words we choose—or choose not to use—often carry meanings of their own.