text by Mia LaRocca
photography by Mal Tayag & Sky Lahood

An earthquake is,

by definition a release of built up energy. 

Earth constantly presses against itself 

until something gives. 

a sudden shake.

a deep tremble. 

magnitude

intensity. 

rippling waves of pleasure. 

a permanent force 

pushing boundaries towards growth. 

The 2009 Earthquake of L’Aquila 

is a collective memory 

for anyone living in the 

Apennine Mountains.

I see impressions of earthquakes 

all around my home – 

scars on the wall.

this home is a container 

to hold my breaking open. 

with each quiver 

I am teaching my body

it is safe for me to receive more.

I noticed myself scanning for danger

each time I received something I desired.

Instead of sinking into pleasure,

I anticipated loss.

As though the thing I wanted

would vanish the moment it touched me.

But living on this fault line

revealed everything bubbling beneath the surface:

volcano.

It is not a fault

to want beauty around me.

I need not fear my desires.

My capacity to receive

is a gift to those around me.

Why deny any of us

that abundance?

I choose joy

in a place that once held such pain.

Destruction places me

on the threshold of life,

where I can ride

the ripples of transformation.

Fault lines.

I do not know

how long this home will last,

but I like the precarity of it all.

Until then

I let seismic shifts hold me, bringing forth:

the feminine urge

to stick my finger in the wound…

…to never leave the bedroom,

…to gaze at the mountains all day.

Sitting on the balcony,

cutting my own hair,

I salute the women before me

who made my ephemeral existence possible.

The women who never felt safe to encounter

the force of their feminine rage,

or the divine creation

emanating from that sacred place.

I watch pieces of myself

fall into the present moment,

swept away by the wind.