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the Infinite
queer identity, death, hope, praxis, song lyrics, and sometimes hubris
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Category: on Generational Trauma

a black and white photo of a protest. the person in the forefront has dark skin and a microphone. there is a sign on the left that reads "If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."
on Chosen Family/on Decolonizing/on Generational Trauma/on Harm & Reciprocity/on Neurodivergence/on Praxis/the Work

capitalism makes no sense to me

When I reject the concept that exploitation of people or resources is just, it becomes antithetical to believe that any of us should put anyone else in a positi...

an open sketchbook with a watercolor flower bud on the left page, and the words 'We create our reality from our daily choices; the world consists of bills of realities."
on Decolonizing/on Generational Trauma/on Praxis

when I know better, I have to do better

I have the ego and expectations of a person with the attention of thousands of people, with the actual followers and subscribers of a person with the attention ...

a POV looking downward at two feet on a sidewalk. the pavement is painted on the right with yellow arrows pointing downward, and scratched into the pavement above the feet is the phrase 'i tried'
on being Exvangelical/on Chosen Family/on Deathwork & Griefwork/on Generational Trauma/on Mental Health/on Praxis/the Work

great, this again.

Do you ever believe something about yourself so hard that even proof doesn't change your mind?

a dark-haired man with a mustache in a short sleeve white shirt is sitting on an old wooden manure spreader, holding the reins of a pair of auburn Belgian workhorses. a young child sits next to him turned away from the camera. another child faces the photographer with a big smile.
on Chosen Family/on Deathwork & Griefwork/on Generational Trauma/on Hope

the promises we inherit

One day, my descendants can rest in the shade of the trees I plant.

sapling with five red leaves on a forest floor
on Deathwork & Griefwork/on Generational Trauma/on Hope

I’m your mother and your father

I want to love deeply without assuming that all the pain is mine to endure.

comic drawing of a fox, eyes closed, while wind blows leaves past, with the text 'it fucken wimdy'
on Generational Trauma/on Hope/on Praxis/the Cycle of the Seasons/the Work

the eighth day

SHOW ME ON THE TREE WHERE CHRISTMAS HURT YOU.

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hi, I'm Nix

The sidebar got too big so I moved all my words about me to a page: who is Nix?

want to follow me around?

I have a secure group chat on Signal! I use it to send messages sometimes, a few photos, song links, audio recordings, short videos, links to essays or posts I write here, and other foolishness. You'll be able to emoji react to what I post (like an Instagram broadcast channel), and if you want to respond to something you can message me separately if we're following each other there.

Here's the link to the group chat so you can request to join: a Traveling Dragon group chat on Signal


CURRENTLY LISTENING TO ON REPEAT:


CURRENTLY READING:

I am on StoryGraph tracking my reading and the reading challenges I've joined. You can go to my StoryGraph profile if you want to see what kind of reading I'm doing right now.

CURRENTLY WATCHING:

I am using MyDramaList now! Here's my MDL profile and my MDL watchlists. I recommend looking at my 2025 watchlist to see what I've watched already and what's on my massive personal wishlist for the year.

... when Skywoman arrived here, she did not come alone. She was pregnant. Knowing her grandchildren would inherit the world she left behind, she did not work for flourishing in her time only. It was through her actions of reciprocity, the give and take with the land, that the original immigrant became indigenous. For all of us, becoming indigenous to a place means living as if your children's future mattered, to take care of the land as if our lives, both material and spiritual, depended on it.

-- excerpt from Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

remember who you are

It is our suffering that brings us together. It is not love. Love does not obey the mind, and turns to hate when forced. The bond that binds us is beyond choice. We are brothers. We are brothers in what we share. In pain, which each of us must suffer alone, in hunger, in poverty, in hope, we know our brotherhood. We know it, because we have had to learn it. We know that there is no help for us but from one another, that no hand will save us if we do not reach out our hand. And the hand that you reach out is empty, as mine is. You have nothing. You possess nothing. You own nothing. You are free. All you have is what you are, and what you give.

-- excerpt from The Dispossessed: an Ambiguous Utopia by Ursula K. LeGuin

© 2025 the Infinite + Phoenix Veritas Kelley
who is Nix?