The language I have I’ve only discovered recently, to say who it is that I am writing myself into existence. I’ve grown tired of being judged every. single. day…not seen for who it is that I am.
This long road? Not expedient.
That, for me, is the point.

photo credit: Courtesy of Deborah Cowell

I had a choice to make: be the editor who cultivates the careers of the writers who find peace and come back every once in awhile from distant mountains, or be that writer who finds peace and comes back every once in a while from some distant mountain. For me it was clear from the beginning, and everything else has been fundamental in helping to build the foundation.

This is the house I have my earliest memories from, where I learned how to walk, talk, and begin reading:

My beloved New York City. For some of us every single thing we do, every single road we walk on, leads us back to the page. This is why we read. It is also why we go out and savor the world. With time we learn to do away with the illusions brought on by comparison and concentrate more on the world through the lens of experience. So much to choose from, to be sure.

“If you say…that we cannot be in love with everyone at once, I merely point out to you that, as a matter of fact, certain…

Journey Woman Pieces of Myself: The Chronology of Deborah Cowell

So much happens while we are all “connected” on social media…

Radical healing is the audaciously conscious decision to focus on joy. This has been my journey…

In August of 2010, I decided I would choose myself. It was the most difficult, most painful, and absolute best decision I have ever made. When you start over again having to rebuild from scratch, every single misstep is yours alone. Every slip, wrong turn, and imperfection. Every single failure belongs to you. And then? Dawn comes. You see exactly what it is you have grown into, having learned to appreciate every single moment. And the future is…well…better. The way forward is a peace and calm I never could have imagined. Or fictionalized. It is profoundly and immensely solitary. …

quiet words spoken / over mint leaves heated in / purified water

with skin is the color of fertile soil,

the default is love and healing

woman, daughter, friend, child of earth

…and I know you see it – I see you see me…

I see. You see…

Me…

Myself. My self…

I, Deborah Cowell.

If I am to bare my soul on this day…

…i who have been talked about and scorned
…i who have been raped
…i who have been burned
…i who have known hunger in the ivory tower
…i who have been caught by the trappings of materialism and revolving debt
…i who have known the posture of low self-esteem marked as vanity
…i…

Deborah Cowell 🗽🇯🇲🌍🌻

writer and editor — Deborah.Cowell@gmail.com

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