love in the cracks

Saved by the beauty of the world

mekdela maskal — Thu, 20 Aug 2026 02:23:14 GMT

I wrote this after visiting my friends Melina and Nicholas for the first time since their 20-month-old son died from injuries sustained when he was hit by a car. Watching the Mary Oliver documentary tonight told me I needed to share it now.

meditation in cracks

mekdela maskal — Tue, 09 Jun 2026 22:31:39 GMT

(‘Uba Seo by me, one of my favorite cracks to be within)

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"When a crack appears in the mighty wall, the only thing scarier than letting it grow unbridled, the only thing more worrisome than allowing it breathe, is sealing it up – for the thesis of the crack is to call into question the form we’ve assumed, the nobilities we cherish, the stories we assume …

Becoming accountable to our desires

mekdela maskal — Wed, 01 Apr 2026 23:03:54 GMT

From your head, gut, or heart? Do you wait until you have to? Make a risk assessment? Pro and con list? Filter them through a criteria; core values, seasonal goals, something else? Do you consult others? Who? When and how much? Do you consciously consider your past? Does it depend on the nature of the decision?

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Jones: Intuition. I follow my heart. Pray…

About changing form through relationship.

mekdela maskal — Thu, 07 Aug 2025 03:48:43 GMT

(I was reminded of this writing in a dream last night. I reread it this morning and felt called to share. I first published it in 2017 on Medium. I think I’ll write a follow up to it soon as my brother and I have been living together again and the love continues to transform us.)

He always wanted to be like me. In the way most younger siblings look up to the ones that came before them, but also in a way that was beyond appearances. Not a blind follower, he would intently listen to me explain my reasoning for disobeying our mom or taking a liking to someone. Then, he’d try to act with the same strategy, and ask me what I thought of the outcome. He gave me meaning well beyond my years. He taught me about being a change-agent before I knew what to change.

I was his older sister when we were at our mom’s. I was his mom when we were at our dad’s. We were each others closest friends, everywhere. We created an armored net of love that connected us wherever we went and softened the sting of the world. Whatever mistake we made or prejudice we encountered, our fall would always be braced.

Earth, Pigment and Prayer

mekdela maskal — Sat, 26 Apr 2025 22:21:47 GMT

UPDATE: To be rescheduled.

I’ll be sharing about my process with pigment for the first time at Wolf Craft School a week after summer solstice. I hope you’ll join us.

I learned about Wolf Craft School a day before they were set to appeal to the board of supervisors to grant them their land use permit. I felt like I needed to be there. After four hours of…

Shadow Ore

mekdela maskal — Tue, 15 Apr 2025 10:50:40 GMT

What’s your favorite color? That question used to bore me as a child. When I wanted to be brief and choosy, I’d say yellow. I liked that dad also said yellow. It wasn’t the whole truth though, I didn’t have a favorite. I love the presence of all colors. All colors are present in black. I feel called to color through spirit and feel drawn to surround myself with certain colors at particular times. I painted my whole home a terracotta womb hue four years ago, walls, doors, trims, ceiling, everything. This home is on the land that introduced me to shadow ore.

Are we listening?

mekdela maskal — Fri, 21 Feb 2025 21:57:11 GMT

As I reflect on challenging relational moments and grow my loving conflict mediation skills, I’ve been taking stock of how I learn and practice listening. I find it to be a foundational–and often taken for granted–missing piece towards repair.

How did you learn to listen?

I was raised to listen to others intently. Mostly adult humans. Listening to them would keep me safe, and bring me the love and attention I wanted. I learned that listening also meant obedience. Not only was it a good idea for me to register and remember everything that was said and done around me, it was also best if I followed suit, whether or not I wanted that. Even better if I noticed what they wanted me to do before they had to tell me. This form of listening was rewarded at home and at school.

My heightened receptivity also helped me to connect to more than human kin. I felt a keen sense of temperature change, sounds, and could always find my way home, geographically. The land taught me to expand my listening beyond the audible and the human, to the felt, seen, smelled, and tasted.