Mj Pettengill

We will find each other again and again, suspended between the wildness of Heaven and Earth...

The primary source of collective and individual trauma related to the County Farm is rooted in profound unawareness.

Unlike the traditional auction, the pauper was sold to the lowest bidder.

I had never played for such a vast and diverse audience—on both sides of the fence—it mattered not that they were, in fact, dead.

It is unnecessary to wait for what we perceive as the perfect opportunity or the right conditions.

We tend to go with the flow but have no idea where the river leads.

An egg about to crack open becomes a favorite moment.

Imagine sitting in the middle of a field of anonymous graves with nothing to go on but intuition.

The trees help old souls reach out to me, begging for their stories to be told. Until that time, it is they who need consoling.

I stood and watched until Death’s cart was out of sight. I was not afraid. I could not say what I felt, but it was not fear.


"As I Began to Love Myself" —Poem by Kim and Alison McMillen
 (Falsely attributed to Charlie Chaplin)

We need not vanish in pale shadows, alienated from our essence. To be silenced, overlooked, or crushed leads to an uncertain death.

What did it mean to win or lose?

I am a historical whistleblower. It's what I do...

I played as a daughter—your daughter. This was no ordinary gig.

Each time I cried for her, the river took me back in her rage. I fought White River until I could fight no more.

Apparently, it isn’t who or what you worship, or where and why. It is about somethin’ much bigger than us, and we’re in it together.

From the bosom of the devastated earth, a voice goes up with our own. It says, "Disarm, Disarm!" Julia Ward Howe, 1870

Daddy always said that when somethin’ is born, somethin’ dies, and when somethin’ dies, somethin’ is born—livestock, deadstock.

I was just eight years old when I had the idea to play in the cemetery and stop and read the stones.