Beyond Boundaries · Essays and Tidbits From Nancy Bo Flood
On December 17th, I introduced to my readers the visionary document, The Universal Declaration of Human Rights. I asked, “What if during this holiday time of gifts and family, food…
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“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends.” —Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I often re-read these words spoken by…
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World Day of Peace is remembered … celebrated … imagined … every January 1st. January 1, 2020, this new decade began with a World Day of Peace. I took out…
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An homage to storytelling in Thunder Bay, Ontario, quoting from “The Dimness of Mothers and Daughters,” by Marilyn Dumont. From the plaque (because it may be hard to read): “This…
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What rights do children have? If you could, what rights would you give to every child—every child—during this sacred time of year? Imagine this, the United Nations in December of…
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I became absorbed with Vincent van Gogh’s paintings at “his” museum in Amsterdam. I had never seen his work close-up in person. Such rich color, such captured energy. And faces…
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“Sometimes a tree can tell you more than can be read in a book.” —Carl Jung Do trees make sound? Do they talk amongst themselves? Do they talk to us?…
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Times have greatly changed the rules for writing in children’s literature. Sex is okay but periods … maybe. Swearing, exploring gender identity, exploring sexuality – go right ahead. But spirituality? Tip-toe with caution.
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We stump across the stage or parade down your street.
Hear us ROAR our terrible words.
Listen. Laugh. Perhaps shiver.
Some stories are too big to put on paper or canvas. This week, we take a look at street art, art that involves the community.
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I am deaf. I cannot hear anything, not even my own voice. But every day I share my stories—what I am thinking, what I have learned, what worries me. I listen to others with my eyes; I speak with my hands, my whole face, my body language, too. American Sign Language is like speaking a silent song. Watch.
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We tell our stories – we tell on ourselves – by the symbols we wear on our skin. Who are you? Tattoo is how I tell you. Look at my…
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