The Writer is N: On the Dynamic We | No. 47

Now, let’s get started with No. 47.

T - THRESHOLD

W - We

📓 The Dynamic We

Previously, I shared that my mother, Midwife Mama Nonkululeko, was also the keeper of the shrine of Meskhenet. Meskhenet was an ancient Kemetic goddess of childbirth—a divine midwife and protector of the birthing house. For Mama, her role as keeper of the shrine manifested in her deep commitment to the birthing chamber and her work helping women and parents demystify childbirth and reproductive issues. If I remember correctly, she received this designation from the Shrine of Ptah. I recall the elevator that led to the Kemetic temple—a creaky contraption with a metallic trellis-like door that opened to a space adorned with gold tints and silver accents. The temple felt both in and of its place and then completely out of place, perched as it was on the higher floors of a tenement building in Chinatown.

In a short documentary filmed in 2020, Mama described how a midwife stands at the threshold—on both sides of an entryway. She shares, “Birth is like going through a door and I'm beginning to feel that death is like going through another door.” Today, I find myself reflecting on this notion of thresholds and triplicity—not solely the midwife, the birthing parent, and the infant but also an unseen third that arises when two forces meet. What is born in that meeting? How does this concept extend beyond childbirth to the making of art or growth in relationships? What more, for instance, emerges when artist and medium join forces? What is created when two individuals come together?

When examining the word “threshold,” I learn that thresh means to strike repeatedly. In childbirth, isn’t the baby being “threshed” — pushed through the intense process of labor — before being caught by the midwife’s waiting hands? Historically, in the late 9th century, “threshold” was used to mean a boundary. Merriam-Webster references an Old English translation of a Roman philosopher’s text De Consolatione Philosophiae, (The Consolation of Philosophy) which describes how the sea was created so that it would not surpass the "threshold" — or boundary — of the earth.

If we think of ourselves as artists threshing our medium—tussling with ideas, stretching them in and out—what comes from this process? Are we breaking down our tools only to remake them? Are we reshaping our craft in ways that reveal something entirely new? Similarly, if we think of crossing a threshold as one part of three—the infant being another—and what is born being a third force, we begin to see transformation, or even, transfiguration, as an inevitable result of two energies coming together. 

With an anointed ankh in hand, steadfast faith and hope in heart, Mama Nonkululeko positioned her as a guardian at this threshold. She stood ready to catch what passed from one side to the other. In those moments when new life tilted its way into this physical plane—she held space at that entrance. The incoming baby crossed through a threshold and was caught by my mother’s hands.

I think about this laboring love—the combining of two to create a third. As John once said: there could have been millions of other combinations of ourselves, but two parts came together to make a you—a we.

A friend recently introduced me to Byung-Chul Han’s The Agony of Eros, where he writes about this third force. Paraphrasing here: Han offers that subordination or sublimation allows one entity to combine within another and vice versa. When I think about sublimation, I imagine sliding into something only to emerge transformed—a more nuanced version of what once was separate.

Han reminds me of something my therapist once shared: John and I are a couple with its own personality—a dynamic "we"—but we are also two individuals within that couplehood. Han proposes that in coupling, we sometimes lose ourselves in another’s space for growth and love. In doing so, we renounce parts of ourselves; in his words, we "evacuate the self."

This shedding is not a loss but a transformation—a laying down of one set of clothes to put on another. The new set reflects us remade: a combination shaped by two guides coming together.

I bring this up because I’m learning what it means to combine my own guide with John’s. What has it meant to lay parts of myself down? Have I done so? And if so, how has it changed me? I’m also learning what it means to listen deeply—to hear and see what emerges from this kind of simmering process. We are making a way for ourselves; we are learning each other; we are growing each other. I remain committed and newly aware of the combination of trust, of patience, of time to build something together.

I am learning to hold space for breath and life—for our dynamic "we," for what is created in joining—just as Mama held space for new life willfully overstepping a threshold.

The Dynamic We - blend

The essential oil, ylang ylang, lends itself to the trinity. It encourages creativity, love and balance in both body and mind. It is ideal for soothing skin or promoting relaxation. It has been used as a unifying and loving force, especially for couples.

Ingredients

• Ylang Ylang Essential Oil (5-8 drops) – Supports reproductive health across gender spectrum, soothes irritated skin and scalp, inspires love and creativity, and promotes relaxation.

Instructions:

1. Add 5-8 drops of ylang ylang oil to a small bottle.

2. Apply 1-2 drops over your heart for relaxation, or use in a diffuser.

3. Apply to irritated skin or scalp for soothing effects.

Tagged under: ylang ylang, thresholds, transformation, the third element, Personal Essay, Reflection, Kemetic Temple, Mama Nonkululeko, Dynamic We, Becoming

I - Interludinal

• As seen in the photo above, I was invited to read at the National Museum of African American History & Culture as part of a celebration for a transformative field study on black literary organizations that is now out and in the world. The title of the field study, “Magnitude & Bond” comes from a poem titled Paul Robeson by Gwendolyn Brooks:

• The poet & quilt-maker Jacqueline Johnson, also was present at this weekend’s program. It was so good to see her.

• I also attended a conversation last weekend between Dr. Duriel Harris and Dr. Sterling Plumpp. Dr. Plumpp shared a story about his friend, the saxophonist Fred Anderson, who practiced seven to eight hours a day. I immediately thought of tenor saxophonist Baba Toney / Antoine Roney and percussionist Kojo Melché Roney and their truly admirable dedication to craft and practice. When Plumpp asked why Anderson practiced so often, his friend replied, "I'm trying to know my horn."

N - Now

This Week’s Now:

• 🎧 Track: “Beneath Your Beautiful” – Labrinth, Emeli Sande

• 📚 Reading: “The Creative Self: Beyond Individualism” by Mari Ruti and Gail Newman.

• 🥡 Eating: Rice Porridge with Cinnamon & Maple Syrup, topped with pecans

More Soon,

N

About this Series: These letters and reflections, For What May Ail the Art, will offer  a blend of poetry, essays, and holistic practices that explore how love, desire, loss shape our art.