Tag Archives: Amanda Krupman

“Shinrin-yoku” – Nonfiction by Amanda Krupman

Kumano Kodo pilgrimage route Nakahechi by Nekosuki (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons
“Shinrin-yoku” is Amanda Krupman‘s personal & poignant flash nonfiction on solitude & Japanese forest therapy from our Fall 2017 issue.

{ X }

THEY SAID WALK WITH ME

I said I already do enough walking.

But you do it alone, they said. It’s better with someone else.

I didn’t believe them, but I wanted to, so I said okay.

And we walked together for a while. Into places we’d known separately and back out again with new words and phrases and paragraphs and endnotes we immediately wanted to forget. After I proved to them that they were wrong, that I was better on my own, I walked away.

 

Walking is the way. It asks nothing from you. It is no accomplishment on its own. It’s process. Plan your routes, set along your path, check the map. Or don’t, and just keep walking until it’s time to lie down. Then get up and do it some more. It’s better not to think if you can help it, but if it happens, and with it you feel your mourning kick the wind out of you and fold you in half, you can trust that it will pass. Just keep moving. When the body stays rooted, the blood runs tepid.

 

My mother had me, her first child, when she was twenty-five. I was a few days away from thirty-five, had no children, and I’d lost my mother some months before. Oh, I knew where she was: alive, very much the person she had always been. But I’d lost her. Rather, she had closed the door, shut me out, shut herself up in the home she had made with my father, the silent partner in this shunning business. I love you, she said, but I love my God more. In anguish, I repeated this to my walking partner, whose own mother was also Christian but in a way that insisted she understand her child’s difference, to recognize over time that her beautiful daughter was, despite expectations, no longer her daughter but still her beautiful child. I bet my parents would say that too if I asked them, they said. But I hadn’t asked.

My mother had always needed to hold me at arm’s length. But when I lost her—and by extension, my father—a lifetime of detritus was unearthed, a hot pile of rotting fruit and buried bones sucked clean of their meat.

Continue reading “Shinrin-yoku” – Nonfiction by Amanda Krupman

Advertisements

FLAPPERHOUSE Reading #17, In Pictures

An orchard-ful of apple-flavored thank-you’s to everyone who helped make last night’s reading so warm and crackly and a little bit dangerous, like an early-Autumn fire: Matt, Amanda, Hafizah, Chris, Mary Boo, and Kim for performing your flappy lits; Alibi for your scintillating singing & gorgeous photography; Pacific Standard for your always-gracious hospitality; and all you beautiful & cultured people who came to witness the weirdness…

We hope we’ll see you all again on 10/25 for our 2nd Annual Halloween Reading!

photos by Alibi Jones 

Matt Patrick tells wonderfully bizarre tales of talking animal heads & cannibalism

Amanda Krupman shares an emotional & sensual excerpt from a work-in-progress

Hafizah Geter wows the crowd with her poignant and powerful poetry

Continue reading FLAPPERHOUSE Reading #17, In Pictures

FLAPPERHOUSE Reading #17 / Issue 15 Flight Party

Our engines’ll be running hotter than a boiling kettle as we celebrate the flight of our Fall 2017 issue with our 17th reading! Wednesday night, September 27, 7-9 PM at the always-hospitable Pacific Standard, 82 Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn.

starring

MARY BOO ANDERSON
CHRIS ANTZOULIS
KIM COLEMAN FOOTE
HAFIZAH GETER
ALIBI JONES
AMANDA KRUPMAN
and
MATT PATRICK

Admission is FREE, and you can buy copies of FLAPPERHOUSE #15 for the special reading price of $5.

Facebook event page here