Author Archives: kiplingburton

Assigning Shape to a Void or Teaching Grief to Children 101

You fumbled happily, cluelessly, through washing newborn babies. Pulling tiny, fragile arms through soft cotton onesies and holding your breath in hopes of saving theirs the first 1,000 nights you put them to bed. You flick through books about sleep training, feeding, behaviour, development, and you start to snuggle up to the lie that you […]


The oxygen machine is noncommittal blue. It’s encased neatly like a suitcase you’d watch float by on a conveyor: Quietly, at the airport, hoping to see yours soon. It’s friendly in shape, no hard edges.  The wheels are situated well under the breadth of the rectangle so you trip only on the context. There’s one […]

Covid Ed.

Fear is heavy and invisible. Having a big heart is not akin to having a strong heart. Breath work is vastly underrated. Comfort is a trap and a lie. Some friendships sit quietly in hibernation until they’re pulled softly towards each other just out of knowing. Absence makes the heart burst in 10 different directions. […]

Power and Poison

The defining, perhaps solely redeeming quality of humanity, is adaptability. It’s how and why we made it this far on the evolutionary map. Fleshy, weak and small, we make no sense in the animal world. Yet the one thing we have, which nothing else living here has, is resilience in adaptation in extremes. We can […]

Box Ticking

“It’s only a body; it will do whatever you tell it to.” The beauty of visiting your edge is that, the more frequently you touch it, the broader it expands. And then beautifully, your edge becomes your sustenance. The discomfort experienced whilst at your edge creates space for ever-expanding freedom: mental, physical, spiritual. It’s taken […]

Quiet little hum

My house was full. Full of people; Bringing dishes, Bringing bottles, Bringing children; Bringing friends of friends of friends. My house was full of music, my house was full of laughter, my house was full of noise. Washing dishes; Picking up the detritus; Emptying the ashtrays; Finding things between the cushions; Finding people under blankets; […]


I hate that name. I’d wither were someone to categorize me as a pleaser: someone who does as they’re supposed to with no soul in their course; stays out of the way, out of trouble… Idly witnessing your fight flicker out is a bit like watching those men tugging their instruments as the Titanic sank. […]

Fit to be Boxed

Nothing will put you together again, the whole of your parts will never be located; and no one will ever know you as you truly are if you present your story with a veil protect yourself with little lies that feel safe deliver interpretations rather than the truth But you’ll get disgusted with their efforts […]

The Lion and the Mermaid and How the Sea Stars Found the Night

Part 1 The little lion cub had a mane of golden hair that framed its tiny heart-shaped face like a flowing crown of leaping flames.  The lion known as Ray, was fierce and curious and silly.  A funny combination of things that met much like two seas colliding: uproariously, beautifully, magically. Ray lived in a […]

Molting – 1st draft

The thing about molting is the process is never pretty.  There’s no way to heave and contract and wriggle and writhe to release an entire cloak of yourself and make it look good.  For us humans, the molting process is usually the center of some deep cathartic experience, also not usually pretty.  If you do […]