Angie Kopshy received a Master’s in Piano from Boise State University before returning to Portland, Oregon, to study and pursue music therapy. Upon completion of her internship, Angie founded a music therapy clinic that specialized in helping children with autism transform their lives with music, paying particular attention to the enhancement of communication, anxiety reduction, motor planning, and social engagement.
Angie recently left her clinic, teaching position at Pacific University and her band, Stoneface Honey, to write in the mountains of Montana. When she isn't helping run Herbaceous Inc., a medical marijuana dispensary in Butte, or facilitating music therapy sessions at Big Sky Music Therapy, Angie is working on her first novel and writing short essays for Behind Every Feminist. Angie is still writing music for Stoneface Honey who released their latest album, Resolved to the Mutual Satisfaction of Both Parties in August of 2018.
As I select my favorite quotes and words of wisdom from different collections, the number of words written by ‘Anonymous’ is surreal. How many are actually anonymous words handed down over the generations and how many became anonymous because the author was female? Then I happened upon this…
Anonymous: Prolific female author. Has written hundreds of thousands of books, articles, poems, essays, memos, broadsides, and treatises. Under this name many women for centuries have written, published, or produced art, either deliberately to avoid the problems and punishments awaiting the woman artist or by default because their names were lost or forgotten. – Cheris Kramarae and Paula A. Treichler from A Feminist Dictionary (1985)
A Buddha under the falls is fallen.
The falls’ waters cleanse the bloodied stone,
Etching vermillion on the bloody floor.
Still the Buddha smiles.
There are tall trees around.
Also dark ushering clouds burgeon.
The lament of a Dravidian girl resonates,
In the breathtaking valley of blood.
Still the Buddha smiles.
The girl, her hair undone, and body too
Sits and weeps in Buddha’s eyes.
Her blood and tears coalesce, yet,
Nobody’s there to hear her requiem.
Still the Buddha smiles.
A queer quietude prevails.
Hunger and thirst too, yet water is there.
Nobody hears the cry of the bloody valley.
Life is still yet there is no stillness.
Still the Buddha smiles.
I happened upon a post by a 6th grade teacher (at least she was at the time of the 2014 post) by Jesska Daugherty. The post was about The Poet Warriors Project and how Biracial Hair by Zora Howard is one of the first poems she has her student warriors learn in order to address the subject of identity. Zora Howard is the youngest poet to win the Urban Word NYC Grand Slam finals. She was 13.
Talk about inspirational art: you know, that thing we use to speak the truth in a way that captures the attention of an audience for more than 4 seconds. Art: that thing extending beyond 140 characters or a #hashtag. ART: that thing allowing you to openly cry or laugh or stand up and shout in agreement because it touches that tender scab on your soul that keeps breaking open again and again. Please artists, on behalf of this little white woman watching an orange man trying to turn our country upside down – and not in a good way – trying to drag our culture down and backwards rather than raise us up: please don’t stop sharing your art with the world.
Check this out and be inspired by Zora’s words. I know it’s long and intense, but at least make it to, “I’m not a fucking cookie!” By then you won’t be able to stop.
To admit authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read, what value to place upon what we read, is to destroy the spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries. Everywhere else we may be bound by laws and conventions – there we have none.
Voluntary simplicity means going fewer places in one day rather than more, seeing less so I can see more, doing less so I can do more, acquiring less so I can have more.
– Jon Kabat-Zinn
One of my favorite people in the world gave me this wish dog. I was daunted by the idea of making one wish – it felt so important that I avoided the process of narrowing all my wishes down to one for months. The enlightenment of how many wishes I actually nurtured in my heart really altered my perspective on wishes and intentions. But wishdogandfriends beckoned me: Wish Dogs ARE reusable!!! So go ahead, wish for more wishes!!
I love the ritual of writing down a wish, setting it one fire and watching it slowly burn as my dog seems to acknowledge the wish by blowing smoke out her nose. It feels like I’m releasing my intentions into the world. There are some wishes that I made every day for weeks, others only once, and a few that I’m still making. ❤
No journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within.
– Lillian Smith
When I travel, particularly to another country, I have this intense urge to fill up every moment of my schedule with something amazing and exciting. But what I’ve discovered, time and time again, is that I end up falling asleep with a pen in my hand or a finger holding down a key on the computer day after day because I can’t get enough and then I can’t find enough time to process everything I’ve experienced. My plan for the day may be perfectly timed, except for that factor I always seem to forget: the unexpected pleasures along the way. Sometimes it’s a person, or a restaurant, a museum or a setting so exquisite that I can’t resist the urge to stop.
And breathe and engage all my senses and let the moment wash over me; lingering long enough to return in my dreams. Whether on a journey halfway around the world or just outside your front door, another journey is hidden within that holds the potential to be just as rich and exquisite. That extra moment that you take to breathe in the sensation of whatever beautiful distraction you happen upon may be exactly what your inner landscape needs to truly expand and grow.
A free and powerful woman on the beach in Oregon who I couldn’t help but capture in action. -Angie Kopshy
In the US, I feel like 1920 was the original ‘Year of the Woman’ as we finally earned the right to vote. The Year of the Woman came up again in 1984, in 1992 and back in March of this year, Priyank Jain, a frequent speaker on the importance of girls’ and women’s empowerment globally, predicted that 2017 would be The Year of the Woman. Just three days ago, the African American Film Critics Association proclaimed 2017 The Year of the Woman. Thanks to Alyssa Milano‘s #metoo hashtag, girls and women across the globe have been inspired to rise up and speak out. #Metoo turned into #wetoo and this issue, which has been festering just under the surface for so many women for so long, is suddenly front and center. And let us not forget to thank and acknowledge and listen to Tarana Burke for lighting this fire ten years ago. If you haven’t had the chance, check out Democracy Now‘s work on this topic.
I’m borrowing the words from one of my band’s songs because I can’t seem to find a quote or poem that says what I want to say right now. Girls, boys, men and women all over the world, stay tuned for the next move and don’t let #metoo become history before we transform this fire into a new future and a stronger culture. There is an immense amount of collective energy that can taper down into an incredible metamorphosis if we continue to listen, support and act. Metamorphosis is literally the process of transformation from an immature form to an adult form in two or more distinct stages. Imagine that.
Rise
An ancient sage suddenly appeared at my feet. She placed her hand upon my heart and whispered, “This is your destiny.”
A woman in black with hair as gold as the sun took my hand. She said, “Close your eyes. Open your mind. Feel the power of this land.” She said, “Daughter of my daughter’s daughter; blood of mine. We’ve been waiting for all your life. It’s finally time to rise. It’s time to fight.”
A band of ancient shamans stopped me in my tracks. They placed their magic on me and said, “You can never go back.” They said, “Sister, on her hero’s journey, take our hands. We’ve been waiting for all our lives. Here we stand to rise.”
We can’t wait any longer. We can’t hide the fire that’s been burning ever stronger. We can’t deny. It’s time to rise. It’s time to fight.
Brave is: Anyone who acknowledges that #metoo turned to #wetoo because we have an epidemic on our hands and the time for change is now. I mean, it was really time for change a lifetime ago, but it took women a while to realize that they should unite rather than fight. Thank you to the many brave women and men of our past, our future, and most importantly, right now. Here we stand in our high heels or combat boots, in our short skirts or suits, hand in hand at last. Let us rise up together, humanity, because as Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie says:
Culture does not make people. People make culture. If it is true that the full humanity of women is not our culture, then we can and must make it our culture.
Recycled Affirmations 