The Bracelet Slinger Blog

My birthmother went to the hospital with a man...they think was my father. They were unmarried. They said they “couldn’t take care of this child in all regards.” I’m left to guess they didn’t have money. Or maybe it wasn’t socially acceptable...or they weren’t in love. I’ll never know the words that I needed that day to arm myself with...the words that could’ve saved my life. If only I had a voice. If only I wasn’t blind to how the world worked, deaf and mute from being too young to understand, and dumb from being just born, I would have told them...

I needed a truck to get me out, and it was the tarps that made me feel safe to ask. Nature is too powerful a teacher to not have an impact on a soul who is living that closely to the Earth. Just seeing a truck alone in America, right now as an Asian woman, is not safe. To be completely open, an older white man who is “kind” to me frequently feels creepy with a hidden agenda. But my instincts...

I live in flight mode.  It’s all I’ve ever known.  It’s what I’ve lived and breathed since as long as I’ve had a memory.  As a child I pretended to be an orphan running away in the woods.  I didn’t even want parents.  I just wanted to go in the opposite direction of everybody else for as long as I can remember.  It wasn’t that I couldn’t make friends.  I did.  Easily.  So easily it made me uncomfortable at times...

I remember being really little...maybe 4 or 5...and sitting in my brother’s room on the bottom bunk with my adoptive mother. I even remember the yellow comforter we were on from Esprit and the blue metal frame of the bed. We had a fun house. Colorful and creative. Kids we had over envied our house. But I remember telling my adoptive mother, “I want to go home.” And I remember exactly her response as if it were yesterday...

My art comes from my emotions the way a broken heart writes a song.  I feel my bracelets come most alive when my heart is overwhelmed and needs an outlet for pint up energy. It’s when my voice wants to sing or scream, my arms want to hold on tight or push away too far, my eyes want to see everything all at once or wash the world away with tears...

I’m a wind rider. I’m a wind rider. I don’t have goals and I don’t have plans. I follow my heart till the road dead ends. Then I ride the wind and I ride the wind. My dreams are born inside the wind. My world is made up as I go. The wings of faith are all I know.

They’re going to try to tell you what’s best for you. But only you know that. They’re going to try to erase you and draw you the way they want you to be. They’re going to try to buy your life and sell it to someone else. They’re going to tell you what to do - you’re going to feel like you have to do it. Don’t. You’ve got one life. And living is about fighting for it. They’re going to come in all types of disguises...

I didn’t want to be called beautiful growing up. I felt like an object. Like an Asian doll that came in a box. Made in Korea. Traded for and expected to play a role. I hated getting haircuts. I hated wearing dress up clothes. I hated being the one Asian girl, human, and thing everywhere I was taken. I wanted roots. I wanted guts. I wanted to be able to scream. I wanted to be understood. To be heard. To be...

I don’t feel connected to my name.  I don’t feel connected to any name, at this point.  I feel like I have no name and I’m floating around the wilderness with no use for one - another reason I feel safe and at home out here.  My whole life my name has been stored in a file instead of moving, living, and growing with me.  When I talk to myself...

Friction: the resistance to motion of one object moving relative to another.

You make the fire in the friction, when you’re completely lost, between the lines, behind the looking glass, in the house of mirrors, beneath the surface, believing in fairy tales, when they’re telling you no, following the light, through the darkness, through the pain...

It’s all about your foundation of your tools...the materials you gather. And if something is not working, you tweak it...otherwise, you needlessly wear yourself out. Then, you’re ready to start drilling - just be sure your form is good...put all your weight right over the point of pressure, start slow, warm it up, until you find your groove...

It is a delightful feeling to want and need very little...to feel happiness sprout from your bare hands and the ground beneath your feet. There is a zen saying, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” I am definitely not enlightened...