In defense of...

Kimberly Warner
Apr 28, 2024
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Welcome to my deeper dive into everything Unfixed! In this new series titled “In Defense of…” I delve into a quality, experience or object often rejected, misunderstood or discounted in our culture. Ten years ago I never thought I’d be making a case for living in an unfixed body and exalting its virtues. So it got me thinking, What else have we been conditioned to reject? What unassuming beauty or opportunity awaits us when biases are examined and we embrace a life holistic? I invite you to join my horizontal playground where duality commingles without hierarchy or preference, recovering the parts of ourselves, our lives and the earth longing to be part of the conversation.

All the p’s (prose, poetry and photography) are by yours truly. 🤍

In defense of monotony

Kimberly Warner
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Nov 3
In defense of monotony

A few weeks ago, while clearing closet clutter to make space for a new printer, I unearthed a half-finished project—a craft I had poured myself into for two years before abandoning it for other pursuits. Needle felting had never called to me, hadn’t even crossed my mind, until life stripped me bare. I didn’t search for it; it found me, in the aftermath …

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In defense of fog

Kimberly Warner
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Oct 6
In defense of fog

Today, I am in a fog squared. Oregon’s damp blanket has finally thrown itself over summer while my brain also slumbers with low clouds. Outside my window, tree limbs blur within a grey gauze. The sky pulls wool over my eyes, fooling the me who is someone with something to say and somewhere to go. While sailors navigate safely to shore with fresnel light…

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In defense of bitter

Kimberly Warner
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Sep 8
In defense of bitter

Recently, while hiking Oregon’s overgrown logging trails, I descended into a dusty blue horizon of Oregon Grapes. Ripe and juicy I bit down on one—a smokey initiation, then tart explosion, and final oh-so-acrid resuscitation as its seeds tannined my tongue. Each morsel a koan to suspend thought and discover the world anew.

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In defense of going nowhere

Kimberly Warner
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Aug 11
In defense of going nowhere

We stood in the grass, an infinite moment or two—my bare feet on morning dew, Kitty Nova wearing her best fur—and watched the world, more ears than eyes, more nosing than knowing. I tune myself to her tail-conducted symphony, discordant human notes relaxing agenda, and together we go nowhere and arrive now-here.

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In defense of unanswered prayers

Kimberly Warner
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Jul 14
In defense of unanswered prayers

With each passing month, I feel less and less Joseph Campbell’s hero and more a failed mortal drowning in the River Styx, trapped soulless between life and afterlife. But cathartic shifts with mom are a healing balm so magical thinking interjects with dire conviction: Mom’s apology was the missing piece. Now the journey is complete and the dizziness will surely go away. But time has other plans.

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In defense of crow's feet

Kimberly Warner
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Jun 2
In defense of crow's feet

Last week, enthusiastic spring winds blew a significant Big Leaf Maple limb to the ground, her leafy branches undone near our back door. I investigated the scene, wondering what cosmic joke busted her laugh lines into flight. The earth beams crow’s feet everywhere I look, and not just as branches, or rippling echoes on water and sand. Flower carpels dra…

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In defense of beige

Kimberly Warner
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May 12
In defense of beige

A team of astronomers recently reported, after surveying and then averaging light from over 200,000 galaxies, that the universe is beige. Upon their discovery, they reached out asking for suggestions for names, and some of the responses included: Cosmic Latte, Cappuccino Cosmico, Big Bang Buff, Cosmic Cream, Univeige, Cosmic Khaki, and my favorite, Primordial Clam Chowder.

If the universe is beige, I argue that hugs are beige too. Let me explain.

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In defense of weeds

Kimberly Warner
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Apr 28
In defense of weeds

I write about weeds today while a rosy affliction polka-dots my hands. Springtime swishes away the tail of Oregon’s winter with frenzy, assaulting my flesh with rash change, my skin more verb than noun. If I had microscopic vision, I would see the boundary of me eating the stardust of other—fescue and rye grass, maple and ash pollen, moss and mildew and wolf lichen spores—reminding self of its endless undoing.

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