We are born wild, but then we lose our senses. In a world where food comes in tidy plastic packages, modern footwear binds us into synthetic soles, we swim in chlorine pools and breathe in small shallow chest-gasps while sitting in front of screens for hours at at time—
What is that edge, the one where we leave behind the fearlessness of youth in order to begin the heart’s journey into the wilderness of womanhood? One adventuress stumbles upon it on a rough slope above the Issyk-Kul Valley.
Where does a woman find freedom in a city life bounded by motherhood, car horns, glaring street lights, and the silent expectation that we succumb to flying in formation?
Singer, songwriter, creator of The Shadow Catchers—a female indie folk and Americana band from the Pacific Northwest—shares a poignant question.
Fix in your mind the hands of your father’s mother. How they were the hands of her mother and her mother’s mother and how those hands may have touched indigo and rice on the plantations that lined the sandy hills that were once the ocean floor from which you came.
Lucia’s contributors and the artists in this issue stun and ground us with their collective—and relatively young—wisdom. These women weave light with dark, flowers with soil, and prose with song until their voices echo a collective message: This is our heroine’s journey.
* I do not move gracefully. I’ve never been compared to FLOWING WATER or DANCING LIGHT. I move like the sky is falling. I move with jarring urgency and the force of 10,000 hearts. I feel calculated with intention And reckless with execution. I feel wild. But I am
“It’s interesting that we are in this time now where if we ask someone how they are doing, they say ‘busy.’ We used to say ‘I’m good.’ Well, I am busy but I don’t function well when I’m busy. I don’t find as much joy when I’m going, going, going.”
Mitochondrial Eve was not the first human woman, but every other female lineage eventually had no female offspring, so their mitochondrial DNA was not passed down. As a result, every human alive today is descended from the same original African mother.
The winner of Lucia’s poetry award writes of remembering her voice before the alphabet, and evokes nostalgia for something ephemeral and eternal at once. A softly stunning poem.
Medicine is in the resinous and astringent bark of trees, the aromatics of blooming flowers, the healing and cleansing properties of herbs and spices, and the nurturing, cooling qualities of roots.
The winner of Lucia’s photography award for her series of photographs is a transformational fiber artist, weaving together photography, sculpture, scarves, dish towels, and leather goods. She is also a delight.