The Black Boundlessness Intensive: In Memory of Gloria Naylor

mamadayMonday Oct 24-Tuesday Oct 25 10am-12pm Eastern

Drawing primarily on Gloria Naylor’s Mama Day and Bailey’s Cafe, this intensive activates land memory and time travel as crucial resources for contemporary Black life and operationalizes Naylor’s magical realist, speculative historical work as a basis to inquire about how we remember, how we time travel, we we become unwound and how to get unbound.   Participants do not have to have already read Mama Day and Bailey’s Cafe (though you will definitely want to once we are done!).   Come to this intensive ready to interrogate your own boundaries, remember the storms that precede you and clear out the back alleys of your spirit.  This intensive is open to all people. 

Registration is limited.  Reserve your space with a $50 deposit here:

registration for the whole intensive is sliding scale $120-200.  (Installment payments available upon request.) Email brillianceremastered@gmail.com and let me know your goals for the course by October 23rd.

To the Mothership!: Alternate Universes from Apocalyptic Archivists

mothership

Between here and Charlotte sits Kannapolis, North Carolina, earthly birthplace of Parliament Funkadelic’s George Clinton.  He was born in Kannapolis and was raised in Plainfield, NJ (my own earthly birthplace.)

This morning I am drawing on the mothership connection, that studied and instinctive response to repeated and predictable state violence that has caused George Clinton and other geniuses to envision and activate technologies of escape.   Earlier this month as I prepared to talk about Alice Walker’s invocation of Mother-ship, in her “Democratic Womanism” and “Democratic Motherism” pieces in The World Will Follow Joy with the visionary apocalyptic archivists who participated in the Last is a Verb Webinar I received a gift in the mail from my irreplaceable namesake, author, Alexis De Veaux.  It was a Parliament Funkadelic t-shirt she bought at Afropunk.  On the back it says

‘Citizens Of The Universe/Recording Angels/We Have Returned To Claim The Pyramids/Partying On the Mothership/ I AM THE MOTHERSHIP CONNECTION’

Alexis Alexis MOTHERSHIP Mother-ship Plainfield Plainfield North Carolina North Carolina. Oh North Carolina.   I am collecting coincidences because systemic violence against black life cannot be the only pattern.   I seek a generative pattern, renewable fuel, to keep basing my daily decisions on Black love.

This past Sunday my grandfather (my mom’s dad) passed away.  On the same day my father-in-love (my partner’s dad) had a major stroke.  And I noticed (maybe because I was attuned to it by grief) that the fathers of several of my friends died too.  And then Keith Scott a father doing what my father does (sits and reads) was blown into eternity.  Charlotte, where my father-in-love lays half-paralyzed recovering from a stroke, exploded into what it already was, a place where only banks are safe, where Black life is a threat, where property is prophecy, where body turns to stone.  What happens when our fathers return to the mothership?  Alice Walker wants all of us to return to the mothership we are already on.  She is asking for Mother-ship as a rigorous responsibility to generate live instead of destroying it that she says is our sacred pre-existing contract with mother earth.

Next week our next webinar Soul Talk: Legacies of Black Feminist Magic remembers that exhausted from responding to the murder of 12 women in Boston within 3 months, the Atlanta Child Murders, the KKK attack in Greensboro, the US invasions of Grenada and Nicaragua and the rise of Ronald Reagan to the presidency Black women like Akasha Hull, Toni Cade Bambara, Sonia Sanchez, Lucille Clifton, Alexis De Veaux, Dolores Kendrick, Michele Gibbs and Alice Walker decided to take their magic seriously. Using ancestral listening, divination, channeling, astrology, dream analysis and other methods they created a precedent for those of us who are committed to radical internal and external transformation.  It is definitely time to take our tendencies for space travel, inter-dimensional wisdom and out of this world presence seriously.

How do I balance my mothership desires for escape from these wretched patterns with my mothership commitment to breath life into even this space, especially this space?  I have been drawing on this poem co-written by the archivists in the webinar for orientation when I ask myself “where” and “how”?  What is the trajectory of the drastic change that I and we need at this time?  This poem has been grounding and space-making for me this past week.  And I pass it on to you with love.

 

The Mother-ship Connection

 

By the participants in Last is a Verb: Archiving After the end of the World

 

To our mother’s gardens.

To the sacred pyramids.

To bliss.

To wellness.

To breathing easily.

To wholeness.

To balance.

To your hearts desire.

To abundance.

To vulnerability.

To trust.

To intimacy.

To willingness.

To sweet remembering.

To fullness.

To evolutionary love.

To forgiveness.

To the place where self-recrimination is no more.

To the place where practicing the art of discernment is effortless.

To respect.

To inner peace.

To home.

To being enough!

To complete connection with all beings.

To safety in this life and the next.

To the future our egun so boldly envisioned for us.

To confidence.

To self-love.

To the world stage.

To iridescent caves.

To our own bone marrow.

To joyful discipline.

To the first and forever dancing ground.

To the blessing place at the bottom of the ocean.

To the best place.

To the sound of joyful heartbeats.

To the sound of drums.

To the song of the first birth.

To the end of patriarchy.

To the abyss-womb.

To the intergalactic intergenerational way-station.

To the dark place where love is first and lasts.

To the vision of the third eye.

To our Truth(s)

To starseed.

To beyond the milky way.

To the new day.

To the ancient future.

To our daughters.

 

Reborn: Heartbreak, Healing and Archive Fertility

Fannie Lou Hamer photo by Louis Draper

Fannie Lou Hamer (photo by Louis Draper)

On the second day of this past weekend’s Last is a Verb: Archiving After the End of the World Intensive we faced the heartbreak of apocalyptic archiving. We wrote and talked about how much it hurts for the insurgent worlds of our people to end, how much it hurts when the material we see as sacred is undervalued by the institutions where we work, how much it hurts to see the systemic violences that make our archiving necessary reproduced in the destinies of those archives.  And how necessary our heartbreak, our full and burning witness is to the world we deserve.   June Jordan’s heartbreak poems about a devastating break up (the correspondence related to which she has sealed in her own archival papers for the next hundred years) guided us to go deep and emerge in flames.    We activated our phoenix subjectivity and thought about what we burn and what we would keep about our whole society.  We reminded ourselves how much we wanted to be as transformative and agile and undeniable as fire.

June Jordan’s mentor and mother-figure Fannie Lou Hamer who was also a researcher whose freedom practice and political vision was informed by her own research and interpretation of slave ledgers and the songs passed down from her enslaved grandmother, guided us to remember the nutrients in the ashes and to add our own seeds to a homemade field of love (like the one June Jordan write about in her tribute poem to Fannie Lou Hamer.)  So out of heartbreak, we were reborn.  (Did I mention that one of our brilliant participants actually has the same birthday as Fannie Lou Hamer?)  We co-midwived each other into a field of possibility shaped by, but beyond our critiques of the fields where we do our work.   This is our rebirth poem.

*If you want some space for visionary rebirth come to next week’s Love is Lifeforce: A Writing Workshop in Honor of Queer Mothering at the LGBTQ Center in Durham or the next Brilliance Remastered Intensive  Soul Talk: Legacies of Black Feminist Magic at the end of the month!

 

 

After the Fire: Reborn

 

by the participants in the Last is a Verb: Archiving After the End of the World Intensive Webinar

 

reborn as a black woman

reborn as an obeah woman

reborn as a healer

reborn as a witch

reborn flying

reborn as a breeze

reborn as sweat that tastes like tears that taste like honey

reborn as ravens

reborn as fire

reborn as a vessel

reborn as any means necessary

reborn as parhesia

reborn in song

reborn with wings

reborn with arms stretched wide

reborn as the words of the spell

reborn as sacred guardians of the land

reborn in time to hold Fannie Lou’s hand

reborn with the knowledge held in all the tree roots

reborn with all the tools necessary for survival

reborn as a writer-artist-healer-visionary

reborn as a peacemaker

reborn as an unapologetic public intellectual

reborn as an autonomous black feminist archive at a kitchen table near you

reborn with the power to read books through osmosis

reborn with perfect pitch

reborn with stories to share and all the right times to share them

reborn in love

reborn with an infectious laugh

reborn with space for everyone in my laughing belly

reborn with an infinitely wide heart

reborn into a whole and healthy world

reborn knowing how magical, brilliant and amazing we are

reborn as a full black lily

reborn as legion

reborn with swords

reborn knowing who we were in the last life

reborn loving ourselves without reservation

reborn without limits

reborn without fear

reborn with no regrets

reborn with a strong body of which I am proud

reborn with the strength to stand tall in front of a crowd

reborn without worry about what other people think of me

reborn with a permeable membrane around the heart chakra

reborn with the patience and knowledge of the ocean

reborn with salt water and honey on our lips

reborn singing an old song

reborn with the urgency and purposefulness of the birds

reborn younger but with the knowledge that I have now

reborn remembering to ask all the questions

reborn in whale sounds held and sung for generations

reborn with all the stories from our unknown mothers

reborn being able to hear what people are actually saying when they speak

reborn being able to activate anyone’s oldest truest purpose with one touch

reborn with the strength of John Henry

reborn with the bravery of Harriet Tubman

reborn with the courage and groundedness of Angela Davis

reborn well, rested and ready

reborn with an irrepressible joy

 

Soul Talk: Legacies of Black Feminist Magic

screen-shot-2016-09-14-at-9-50-02-am

September 28-29th, 2016

5:30-9:30pm Eastern Time

Inspired by Akasha Gloria Hull’s foundational work Soul Talk: The New Spirituality of African American Women, this 2-day online intensive invites participants to engage an unstoppable and unending tradition of magic within the context of the political and literary legacy of black feminism.  Featuring Sista Docta Alexis Pauline Gumbs’s intimate archival elaborations and ritual prompts drawn from some of the most untaught work by Alice Walker, Lucille Clifton, Sonia Sanchez, Toni Cade Bambara, Alexis De Veaux and other black feminist artists identified by Hull’s work, this course will encourage participants to renew, recontextualize and reaffirm their own magic as a crucial resource for wide-reaching political transformation.

This course is open to anyone, and priority will be given to black women in general and other comrades who know how we do (aka allies who have participated in Brilliance Remastered or Eternal Summer of the Black Feminist Mind spaces in the past.)

Registration is limited, hold your spot with your $50 deposit here:  

registration for the whole intensive is sliding scale $185-250.  (Installment payments available upon request.) Email brillianceremastered@gmail.com and let me know your goals for the course by September 25th.

 

Possible Worlds: From the Last is a Verb Apocalyptic Archivists

screen-shot-2016-09-12-at-9-59-49-am screen-shot-2016-09-12-at-9-59-41-am screen-shot-2016-09-12-at-9-59-27-am

 

 

 

This weekend’s Last is a Verb: Archiving After the End of the World Intensive was MIRACULOUS. Seven star-seeking, memory-keeping geniuses activated ancestral love, brave knowing and revolutionary vulnerability towards clarity and action about the world we want to keep, the systemic and internal patterns we want to destroy and the possibilities implied by the archive of our being.  Does that sound deep? It was.  We dug deep and emerged dirty and resplendent, like the planet.

On our first day together we engaged Audre Lorde’s theories of survival, Octavia Butler’s examination of Ooloi as an archivist gender for remembering and recreating life in infinite contexts, offered each other the archives held and lost by our own names and our relationships to our names, and the knowing held and kept in our physical bodies.  And that was just the first day.   I will be sharing blog posts for the res of the week about what else we did, but for now, we want to offer a poem we created by thinking about what knowledges and longings we have archived so deeply in our bodies, minds and hearts that we could create whole worlds out of them, in the tradition of the Oankali Ooloi.

If you want to be sure to know about upcoming intensives, webinars and workshops add your email to the Brilliance Remastered Brain Trust list here: http://eepurl.com/bsb6rj

 

Possible Worlds: (From the Archives of Our Being)

 

By the Last is a Verb: Archiving After the End of the World Participants

 

I could build a world of running away.

I could build a world of talking back.

I could build a world made from the joy found in my great grandmother’s smile.

I could build a world of my grandmother’s laughter. Her idioms. Her broken French.

I could build a world of that look mama gives sometimes.

I could build a world of great grandma’s teacakes and yardbird for dinner.

I could build a world of women waking early to bake bread.

I could build a world of answered letters and congratulatory cards.

I could build a world of Black feminists asking about each other’s daughters.

I could build a world of books and time to read them.

I could build a world of love.

I could build a world of yes.

I could build a world of mutual acceptance.

I could build a world of bad typing and supernatural syntax.

I could build a world of painless hands.

I could build a world of middle-aged flabby acceptance.

I could build a world of sacred drumming as the background rhythm to everything.

I could build a world of gifts my brother picked up off the ground.

I could build a world of everyone sleeping peacefully always.

I could build a world of dreams from rocks kept under pillows.

I could build a world of love singing first thing in the morning.

I could build a world of weightless floating.

I could build a world of flower filled baths.

I could build a world of tears cried at graduations.

I could build a world of self-possessed strutting in the best way.

I could build a world of the presence of horses, everywhere.

I could build a world of desire remaking escape.

I could build a world of prayers heard and questions celebrated.

I could build a world of listening as medicine.

I could build a world of healing breaths.

I could build a world of laughing out loud, often.

I could build a world of cherished surprise.

I could build a world of pleasure made of honey and cinnamon.

I could make a world of black feminist poetics.

I could build a world of worlds burnt down.

I could build a world of worlds remade.

 

 

I could build a world without borders.

I could build a world where words come easy.

I could build a world where black joy flows in abundance.

I could build a world where the cure for jealousy is adoration.

I could build a world where a powerful woman is valued and never feared.

I could build a world where Black women believe they are enough.

I could build a world where mothers can find time to rest.

I could build a world where shame doesn’t exist.

I could build a world where Love is Love is Love is.

I could build a world where double chins are fine.

I could build a world where no one is surprised when young people shine.

I could build a world where you do not have to have money to live well.

I could build a world where playing is everyone’s job, sometimes.

I could build a world where there is enough clean water for everyone.

I could build a world where we breathe saltwater so no one drowns and no one is alone.

I could build a world where greed is dissolved.

I could build a world where housing is for people, not for profit.

I could build a world where everyone knows where home is.

I could build a world where everyone’s story is heard.

I could build a world where people regularly share about our conversations with the land.

I could build a world where everyone knows cooperation and love are the true qualities of humanness.

I could build a world where there are no prisons.

I could build a world where ‘divide and conquer’ is impossible.

I could build a world where art is not extra.

I could build a world where darkness is not the metaphor for everything evil.

I could build a world where healing with sound and color is an everyday occurrence.

*******

The Difference: Poetry from the Participants in The Difference Between Poetry and Rhetoric: Responding to Police Violence

Audre Lorde w June Jordan, Alice Walker, Lucille Clifton

Last night called and called and called on the oracle of the Lorde.  We lifted up the name Korryn Gaines.  We remembered how long we’ve been sayinghername.  We affirmed the power of our communities and reclaimed our bodies from the state.  We investigated our own practices and positions of power.  We shared our fears, insights and dreams.  We remembered that the difference is being ready.  Being present.  Being here.  Together.

If you are looking for more opportunities to get and stay ready, join us next Friday for Maybe: Afro-Pessimism and Revolutionary Mothering or the following week for our next intensive Last is a Verb: Archiving After the End of the World.

Here are the poems we created. With love.

Reclaiming Power (in honor of our communities of accountability)

by the participants in “The Difference Between Poetry and Rhetoric: Responding to Police Violence”

 

I believe in the power of black mothers

I believe in the power of black women historians

I believe in the power of immigrant women

I believe in the power of black girls

I believe in the power of our bodies

I believe in the power of incarcerated youth

I believe in the power of black femmes

I believe in the power of South asian & brown femmes

I believe in the power of poetry

I believe in the power of our political prisoners

I believe in the power of the water of the world

I believe in the power of griots

I believe in the power of afro-xicanxas and afro latinxs

I believe in the power of collective Black Girl Magic

I believe in the power of real, authentic solidarity

I believe in the power of radical, collective healing

I believe in the power of the people of Durham, NC

I believe in the power of women of color mothers

I believe in the power of queer people of color

I believe in the power of those at the bottom of the ocean

I believe in the power of those who speak our mother tongues

I believe in the power of our ancestral and spirit guides

I believe in the power of libraries

I believe in the power of collaboration

I believe in the power of curiosity

I believe in the power of sisterhood

I believe in the power of those people and places that helped raise me up

I believe in the power of my Philly Community!

I believe in the power of my nieces

I believe in the power of poor people

I believe in the power of “rioutous cities” like Baltimore

I believe in the power of black beauticians

I believe in the power of our cultural currency

I believe in the power of my homegirls

I believe in the power of my faith family

I believe in the power of the people of south side of chicago and troy, alabama

I believe in the power of my son’s liberation.

I believe in the power of galaxies and outer space

 

Between

by the participants in “The Difference Between Poetry and Rhetoric”

 

“the difference

between poetry and rhetoric

is being ready

to kill

yourself

instead of your children.”

-Audre Lorde in “Power”

 

“been

black

black

been

but

between”

– from the “b” oracle in the Lorde Concordance of “Power”

between black and black

between living and surviving

between ancestors and dreams

between proximity and possibility

between a comma and a period

between reclaimed freedom and self-imposed prison

between sanity and survival

between theory and practice

between me and us

between ice creamed surprises and “good cops”

between my body and his story about my body

between resistance and existence

between been and fitting’ to

between the lesser of two evils and choosing no choice at all

between our lived reality and the fairy tale

between childhood and tallness

between not another and never again

between my faith in myself and the glory of acting on faith

between Black mothers and Black children

between safety and trust

between compassion and implication

between justice and Black Girl Magic

between us and ourselves

between power and foresight

between i and i

between hatred and collaboration

between yes and yesterday

between love and privilege

between hardness and the journey to softness

between ancestral and elderly wisdom

and the leadership of our emerging freedom fighters

between the healing power of plants and the healing power of your hands

between love and the capacity for more love

between the veil and it’s being pulled back

between gone but not forgotten

 

Maybe: Afro-Pessimism and Revolutionary Mothering

large_746_Revolutionary_mothering

“In a very real sense, every writing as revision makes the discovery all over again.” – Hortense Spillers in “Mama’s Baby, Papa’s Maybe: A New American Grammar Book” -1987

“Your mama is queer as hell.”- Revolutionary Mothering: Love on the Front Lines -2016

It’s been almost 30 years since Hortense Spillers offered a radical inquiry into “the condition of the mother” in her 1987 essay, and 354 years since “the condition of the mother” became the legal definition of enslaved status in the United States. The murder of Korryn Gaines two days ago and the shooting of the child she held in her arms comment equally clearly on the “condition” of black mothers in relationship to the state.

Revolutionary Mothering: Love on the Front Lines draws on definitions of mothering from Hortense Spillers, Toni Morrison, Audre Lorde, June Jordan and Alice Walker in an attempt to use the same rupture in the meaning of “mother” that made slavery possible to reveal a queer potential in the ongoing gender-transcending criminalized work of affirming, causing, keeping, nurturing and protecting black life.

This seminar is for thinkers who want to work deeply with the implications and possibilities of mothering in this moment in the context of the intervention Spillers made (and is still making.)  We will use close reading and poetic engagement with Mama’s Baby, Papa’s Maybe, discussion, collective writing and other forms of community accountable critical engagement to deepen our praxis and revolutionize our mothering.

Or in other words…

“This space, which is a temporary space, which we must leave, for the sake of future travelers and our own necks, is a sacred dedicated space. Libation for the named and the nameless.  This is for black women who made and broke narrative.  The quiet, the quarrelling, the queer.  This is where.  This is what. This is how.” – Alexis Pauline Gumbs in the opening note to Spill: Scenes of Black Feminist Fugitivity

 

FAQs

Who can participate in this seminar?

Anyone who is thinking about/living blackness, anti-blackness, mothering and the state and who is willing to read the essay by Spillers and an excerpt of Revolutionary Mothering in advance, and who can respect the accountable facilitation of a black feminist love evangelist.

Will you write me a letter of invitation so I can get reimbursed by my school or workplace?

Of course.  (I call it DIY reparations.) Just tell me what you need.

What if I sign up and then change my mind or my plans change?

The registration fee is non-refundable.  If you don’t show up your fee will be a donation to the ongoing work of Brilliance Remastered (alexispauline.com/brillianceremastered) and Eternal Summer of the Black Feminist Mind (blackfeministmind.wordpress.com).  So you can’t lose.

 

Last is a Verb: A Webinar on Archiving After the End of the World

201f4ceLast is a Verb: Archiving After the End of the World September 9-11, 2016  2pm to 5pm Eastern

For some of us it feels like the world is about to end.  Some of us have seen the world end over and over again for our communities, and yet we feel the impulse to document, to keep, to share or as the every day archivists at Saving Our Lives Hear Our Truths say to “know and remember.”   We are post-colonial obeah, black post-katrina, black feminist after 1981, radical followers of Phillis Wheatley, still following Benjamin Banneker’s almanac. We are accountable to something that shouldn’t exist.  But it does.  It still does.

This is a course for archivists in the broadest sense of the term who want to think together about what is worth saving, or how WE are worth saving in this moment.

This is a space for community archivists, academic archivists, experiential archivists, DJs, researchers, community organizers, media makers, mapmakers, curators, geneaologists, documentary artists, historians, writers, family recipe recipients, collectors, oral history-makers, filmmakers, family reunion planners, Nina Simone fans and any one who feels called to think about what it means to keep material, digital, mental or embodied records at/after this time.  What lasts at last?

Our black feminist references for apocalypse will include Octavia Butler, Jacqui Alexander, Audre Lorde, Marlene Nourbese Philip, Hortense Spillers, Alice Walker, June Jordan, Nina Simone, Janelle Monae, Phillis Wheatley and more.

Registration is limited, hold your spot with your $50 deposit here:  

registration for the whole intensive is sliding scale $175-300.  (Installment payments available upon request.) Email brillianceremastered@gmail.com and let me know your goals for the course by September 5th.

The Difference Between Poetry and Rhetoric: Responding to Police Violence

Audre Lorde w June Jordan, Alice Walker, Lucille Clifton

“The difference between poetry and rhetoric is being ready…”  -Audre Lorde in “Power”

Thursday August 4th 6pm-9pm EDT. Online. 

We have recently heard quite a lot of rhetoric, during an election cycle where (thanks to intentional organizing and horrific acts of harm caught on video) police violence cannot be ignored.   And we have continued to see the judicial system offer anything but justice.  Due to repeated requests, we are offering another one night webinar on how writers, scholars and artists can respond to police violence in this moment.

This online course is for those of us who are scholars, writers and artists who are figuring out our role in a moment characterized by (a need for) drastic change. This one night workshop draws specifically on ways that Audre Lorde and June Jordan responded to police violence as poets, university teachers and public intellectuals. We need the depth of their legacy right now as much as we ever have.

The class will draw on Sista Docta Alexis Pauline Gumbs’s chapter “Nobody Mean More: Black Feminist Pedagogy and Solidarity” in the book The Imperial University: Academic Repression and Scholarly Dissent (eds. Piya Chatterjee and Sunaina Maira.)

As she says in the chapter itself “This chapter is a meditation on what it means to be nobody in a university economy designed to produce somebody inviduated, assimilated and consenting to empire. Is it possible to instead become nobody in the academic space? Is it possible to align with the illegible oppressed/contemporary subaltern, the falling apart abject nonsubject, inside a university English class?” (Participants in the course will get a pdf of the full chapter to refer to for the class.)

If you, like Audre Lorde and June Jordan, are a writer or teacher or a theorist or a thinker or an activist or a mother or all of these things at the same time, join us for a supportive space where we tap into the the power of black feminist legacy and empower each other (the nobodies that we are) to face this moment. 

Get your ticket here: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/the-difference-between-poetry-and-rhetoric-responding-to-police-violence-tickets-26877479264

 

FAQs

If I did NOT participate in “Nobody Mean More: Responding to Police Violence” a few weeks ago, can I still take this course?

Yes.  In fact, part of the reason this course is happening is to accommodate people who wanted to participate in the first course and could not.

If I DID participate in “Nobody Mean More: Responding to Police Violence” a few weeks ago, can I still take this course?

Yes. Although we will be drawing on the same ancestors (Audre Lorde and June Jordan) and the same texts, we will be doing different activities.  If you participated in the first class and want to stay engaged in this conversation feel free to join us again.

Do I need to do a lot of reading to be ready for the course?

No.  When you register you will get access to all of the texts mentioned, but these are for your continued exploration and you are not required to read them ahead of time.

Why are there a limited number of tickets for an online event?

The online platform that Brilliance Remastered uses for courses enables 50 live users at a time.  So there are only 50 tickets for this event.  There are also a limited number of free and choose your own donation tickets…which usually go first.  If you want to be the first to know about Brilliance Remastered courses

join the facebook group here:  https://www.facebook.com/BrillianceRemastered/
 or the email list here:  http://eepurl.com/bsb6rj

If I change my plans, can I get a refund?

There are no refunds because there are a limited number of spots.  If your plans change your offering will be considered a donation to this ongoing work.  If you email to let us know, we may offer your spot to someone on the waiting list.