A stranger offers you one wish, but it must be selfless: what do you wish for?
Answer / Reflection:
If I could make one selfless wish, it would be for equality, freedom, and equal rights for all humans everywhere. In a world so divided by wealth, power, and privilege, imagining a reality where everyone has the same opportunities, protections, and freedoms is not just idealistic… it’s essential.
Equality isn’t about giving everyone the same thing; it’s about removing barriers that prevent people from living fully. Freedom isn’t just the absence of oppression… it’s the ability to pursue one’s passions, speak one’s truth, and exist without fear. A selfless wish like this could ripple across generations, changing lives in ways no single person could imagine.
This wish may not be simple, but it’s universal. It’s for the person struggling in silence, the family denied rights, the communities still fighting for recognition. It’s for the world we can choose to create if empathy, justice, and courage guide us.
Selfless wishes force us to look beyond ourselves and consider the collective good. Asking, “What would I wish for if it weren’t about me?” challenges us to imagine a better world, and more importantly, to work toward it in our everyday lives. Today, my selfless wish is equality, freedom, and equal rights for all. And a reminder that change begins with vision, empathy, and action.
If a stranger offered you one wish but they told you it had to be selfless what would you wish for? Make your own list and tag me or tell me here in the comments.
I think, it would walk softly but carry the weight of worlds. It would not announce itself. It would arrive between words, slip into the pause after laughter, and linger long after everyone else has gone home.
Silence is both thief and teacher. It doesn’t always come empty-handed but, it never leaves without taking something, either.
What Silence Steals
Silence steals connection first. It builds walls between people who need to speak but can’t find the right words. It turns “I’m fine” into armor and conversation into an empty stare.
It steals knowledge, too. The kind that grows in shared stories, in hearing others’ truths, and in daring to speak your own. When silence settles too long, understanding dies quietly underneath it.
And it steals growth, the slow becoming that happens when we face conflict or confess fear. Silence freezes us in the moment before change, where everything we could say might shatter what we think we know.
What Silence Gives
Yet, silence gives, too. It brings peace, the kind that hums beneath chaos and exhaustion. It gives us room to breathe, to listen to ourselves when the world feels too loud.
Silence also gives questions. Sometimes uncomfortable ones that echo in the dark: Who am I without the noise? What do I actually believe?
And sometimes, silence gives fear. The fear that no one will answer back. The fear that the quiet means we’ve lost something vital or someone.
The Balance Between Noise and Nothing
Silence is never just absence. It’s a mirror. It shows us what we’ve hidden and what we’ve lost, but also what we’re strong enough to face.
I’ve learned that silence isn’t my enemy and, it is only my reflection.
What it steals, it teaches me to fight for.
What it gives, I try to understand.
In the end, silence doesn’t ask for my voice. It reminds me how much power I have when I finally choose to use it.
This poem, “A Thousand Times,” is a heartfelt reflection on personal growth, identity, and the journey of self-discovery. It explores the desire to reach back in time to encourage your younger self while celebrating the resilience and courage it takes to embrace who you truly are.
“A Thousand Times”
Brave girl, you have a beautiful soul… brave little girl
y o u
are worth far more than you know and oh, the places you will go
I have wished a thousand times for the ability to travel back in time
to let you know
that w e
Made it.
You just had to give life a try.
Oh,
And…
Realize that you’re a guy.
That,
was always enough.
A Thousand Times encourages readers to reflect on their own journeys of self-discovery and resilience. It’s a reminder that embracing identity, learning to trust oneself, and recognizing your worth are victories worth celebrating. This poem is both an homage to the past and a celebration of the present, highlighting the strength it takes to grow and accept oneself fully.
What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?
Heritage shapes who we are, connecting us to the past and guiding how we see ourselves in the present. For me, my cultural background includes both Native American and Polish roots. I feel they each offer a unique perspective and sense of identity. Exploring these lineages has been a journey of pride, curiosity, and reflection, even when faced with challenges in learning about them.
Native American Heritage:
My Native American lineage comes from my father’s side, and it’s the part of my identity I feel deeply connected to, even though I’ve had limited access to family knowledge. My dad’s mother was fully Native American, but I don’t know the specific tribe or much about the traditions she may have practiced. She passed from liver related illness when my dad was very young. Also, if you didn’t notice, I don’t speak to my father, connecting with this side of my heritage has been a challenge.
Still, I’m proud of this lineage. I am fascinated by the culture, history, and values it represents. It inspires me to learn independently through research, books, and online resources, seeking to understand and honor the heritage that is uniquely mine.
Polish Heritage:
On my Polish side, I have a clearer connection. Both my great-grandmother and grandfather were fully Polish, and I had access to stories, traditions, and family memories that enrich my understanding of this heritage. I could speak fluent polish up until the age of 14. My “butchie” passed and for me that was unrealistically out of know where. I had not yet seen death. I think because of this I somehow repressed the majority of the language we spoke together.
Anyway. I am proud of the resilience, values, and cultural richness passed down through generations. From Polish customs to the shared family narratives, this helps me feel rooted and connected to a broader story beyond my immediate experience.
Reflections on Heritage and Family:
Exploring both lineages has highlighted how family dynamics can impact access to heritage. Some family members I know are not closely connected to older generations or to those who have passed, making certain knowledge difficult to retrieve.
Even with these limitations, I feel a sense of responsibility to honor both my Native American and Polish heritage. These experiences have taught me that heritage is not just about knowing every detail, it’s about curiosity, pride, and intentional exploration of the traditions, stories, and values that shape us.
Learning about and celebrating my Native American and Polish roots has been a meaningful part of understanding my identity. Even when access to family history is limited, cultural heritage offers a path for self-discovery, connection, and pride. Whether through independent research, storytelling, or embracing family traditions, I am committed to honoring both lineages and sharing the lessons, values, and beauty they bring into my life.
This is Volume 9 of The Spill, the newsletter where I gather up recent Poeaxtry_ news. What I have been pouring into lately: the projects, the gear, the hikes, the collabs, and the small but steady steps toward building something lasting.
Twitch Possibilities
The Twitch space is opening wide with possibilities. Think gaming sessions, live rock slicing, witchy streams with tarot readings, pendulum work, spell crafting, foraging rituals, and even virtual rockhounding trips. Poetry readings will land here too. This is a place where all the threads of Poeaxtry_ can weave into something more interactive.
Revolt & Multi-Platform Mission
The Revolt server (think Discord, but different) is live, and it’s part of the bigger mission: being present in multiple places so no one in the community is locked into an app they don’t like or use. Our hub is meant to be open and accessible wherever you feel most comfortable, not confined by corporate walls.
Discord Makeover
The Discord itself is getting a proper refresh: clearer names, straightforward descriptions, and more sections to come. No fluff, just an easier way to find what you need and connect with who you want.
Gear Upgrade
Content creation just got an upgrade with a new tripod that’s going to make stream and recordings cleaner across the board. It doubles as a SELFIE STICK! A “gym bag” I found has transitioned into my field pack. It is loaded with pockets, clip-on options, and even an expandable section. Add an inflatable camping mat to the list (a masons type resell bin score, green and sustainable), and yes shoes! I got new Chuck Taylors that’ll sneak their way into a hike or twenty.
Fossils & Rockhounding
Lately I’ve gotten fossils from Sylvia’s Fossil Park and in Richmond, Indiana. So I’ve been cleaning whole plates and full pieces. The finds out there are incredible: brachiopods, trilobites, corals, and other ancient remnants that remind me why rockhounding is so much more than collecting. It’s connection to time itself.
Collabs & Publishing
Both of my current collabs are still open! Kelso Volume 1 has officially been published! On top of that, I’m already working on another solo zine. The momentum doesn’t pause here.
Adventures & Trips
Last week had been packed: Blacklick Sky Canopy, Millikan Falls, and the Columbus Rose Garden all got their share of footsteps in the same day. This week, I’ll be heading to Conkle’s Hollow in Hocking Hills on Thursday, September 25 for another stretch of trail time and inspiration.
The Spill is always about what’s moving, what’s being built, and what’s on the horizon. Volume 9 marks another turn in the path, with community spaces growing, creative work expanding, and small joys. fossils to new gear… carrying forward.
What personality trait in people raises a red flag with you?
Perfection. You know that flawless facade that some wear like armor. This is my ultimate red flag in any relationship, professional connection, or friendship.
When someone presents themselves as perfect, never making mistakes or showing vulnerability, it’s not a sign of excellence but a warning of what lies beneath. Perfect people don’t exist. What does exist are individuals who have constructed elaborate defenses to hide their humanity.
So what are you trying so hard to hide?
The Danger Behind the Flawless Facade
The pursuit of perfection creates impossible standards that crush creativity and authentic connection. I’ve watched “perfect” people:
Refuse to acknowledge their mistakes, even when obvious to everyone
Shift blame rather than accept responsibility
Hide struggles until they become unmanageable crises
Judge others harshly for normal human limitations
Exhaust themselves maintaining an unsustainable image
This relentless perfectionism isn’t strength… it’s fear wearing a mask of confidence.
What Perfection Hides
Behind the polished exterior of perfectionism often lurks deep insecurity. The person who can never be wrong, never show weakness, and never admit confusion is typically terrified of being seen for who they truly are.
This fear creates a barrier to genuine connection. How can you truly know someone who refuses to show their rough edges? How can you trust someone who can’t acknowledge their mistakes?
The Value of Beautiful Imperfection
I’m drawn to people who embrace their imperfections. People who can laugh at their mistakes, acknowledge their limitations, and show up authentically even when it’s messy. There’s something profoundly trustworthy about someone who can say “I don’t know” or “I was wrong” without their world crumbling.
The Japanese concept of wabi-sabi celebrates the beauty in imperfection. A handmade ceramic bowl with slight asymmetry holds more character and value than a mass-produced “perfect” one. The same applies to people.
Recognizing Healthy Striving vs. Perfectionism
There’s an important distinction between healthy striving for excellence and toxic perfectionism:
Healthy striving is motivated by growth and learning
Perfectionism is motivated by fear and avoidance
Healthy striving allows for mistakes as part of the process
Perfectionism sees mistakes as unacceptable failures
Healthy striving focuses on the journey
Perfectionism fixates solely on flawless outcomes
When I meet someone who can talk openly about their failures, who approaches challenges with curiosity rather than certainty, and who shows compassion for others’ mistakes… that’s not a red flag. That’s a green light for authentic connection.
In my experience, those who project an image of perfection aren’t just hiding normal human flaws but, they’re often concealing something far more concerning. The person who can never admit to being wrong, who crafts an immaculate social media presence while their real life crumbles, who dismisses others’ struggles while presenting themselves as flawless. And these aren’t just annoying perfectionists. They’re often hiding deep-seated insecurities, manipulation tactics, or even abusive tendencies.
The most dangerous people I’ve encountered weren’t those who openly acknowledged their struggles with anger, anxiety, or past mistakes. It was those who insisted they had none. Those who gaslit others into believing their perception of reality was wrong. When someone shows you a perfect facade, they’re not showing you who they are; they’re showing you what they want you to believe. And that gap between image and reality is where the real danger lies.
True connection happens in the spaces where we allow ourselves to be seen… yes, the imperfections and all. Someone comfortable with their flaws rarely needs to control how others perceive them. Remember this the next time you meet someone who seems too perfect to be true. They probably are.
The most interesting people I know are gloriously, beautifully imperfect. And that’s exactly what makes them perfect for genuine relationship.
What trait do you consider an instant red flag? Share your thoughts in the comments.
The Join Us Today: “Poetry-Ink, Identity, and Insistence: Trans Creation as Survival and Defiance”
I’m excited to share that I’ll be presenting at the TransOhio 16th Annual Transgender & Ally Symposium today at 3:15 PM in Room Aat Owens Community College in Perrysburg, Ohio!
Session Details:
Title: Poetry-Ink, Identity, and Insistence: Trans Creation as Survival and Defiance
Presenter: Axton N.O. Mitchell (he/him)
Time: 3:15 PM
Location: Room A, Owens Community College, Perrysburg, Ohio
Date: September 6, 2025
About My Session:
As a published trans poet, I’ll be introducing two community projects I’ve built from the ground up. One specifically designed to uplift trans, gender non-conforming, intersex, and the other all marginalized creators. These projects provide completely free collaborative editing, formatting, and visual design services using Canva Pro, with contributors retaining full rights to their work.
The During this session, I’ll cover:
How these publishing projects operate
The submission process
Ways to get involved (both as contributors and behind-the-scenes supporters)
Guidance on finding trustworthy submission opportunities
How to identify and avoid exploitative publishing practices
Information about our safe creative spaces, including our Discord community
Plans to transition these projects into paid opportunities
While my speaking focus today is primarily on trans, GNC, and intersex experiences, our broader mission includes publishing works from all minority communities, with themed publications for specific individual groups of people.
About the Symposium:
The TransOhio Annual Symposium is specifically designed for transgender, nonbinary, gender non-conforming, and intersex individuals and their allies. The event features a wide range of sessions covering important topics for our community.
Other exciting sessions today include:
Reimagining the American dream
Violence Prevention
Trans Sex and Relationships
Personal Note:
A huge thank you to my friend Dea for driving me to the symposium today! Community support makes events like this possible, and I’m grateful for allies who help us access these important spaces.
I hope to see many of you there, either in person or virtually. These community gatherings are vital for our collective growth, healing, and empowerment.
Join Our Creative Community:
After the symposium, all attendees are invited to join our Discord space for writers and artists where we continue to build connections and support creative expression year-round.
Axton N.O. Mitchell is a published trans poet and community publisher dedicated to uplifting marginalized voices through accessible, ethical publishing projects.
At thirty-three, I never imagined I’d become someone who shares the intimate parts of my life online. Yet here I am, consistently showing up to write about grief, gender identity, and the healing power of hiking. If you’re wondering why someone would choose to be so vulnerable in public spaces, the answer is both simple and complex: because sharing our stories creates the connection and healing we all desperately need.
When Grief Needs Witnesses:
Losing my mother changed how I process emotions entirely. Suddenly I had all these feelings with nowhere to put them. Writing journal entries addressed to her felt worse than loosing her fake almost. So I started doing it differently. I discovered something powerful: I wasn’t the only person talking to someone who couldn’t talk back.
Sometimes the most healing thing we can do is witness each other’s pain and say “me too.”
Mountains as Medicine:
My hiking posts might look like simple nature photography, but they’re actually documentation of my primary therapy. When emotions become overwhelming, I head to the trails. The physical exertion helps regulate my nervous system while natural beauty provides perspective impossible to find in urban chaos. And it’s something my mom and I loved to do together.
Each trail represents a different emotional journey. Sharing these experiences shows others that outdoor activities can be powerful mental health tools, not just weekend recreation. Nature doesn’t judge your tears or your questions about who you’re becoming.
Creating the Safe Spaces We Needed:
The internet can be hostile, especially for transgender people navigating identity questions. By consistently sharing authentic content about my experiences, I’m creating the kind of safe space I desperately needed when I was younger and struggling alone.
This extends beyond trans content. Writing honestly about grief, family estrangement, mental health struggles, and finding joy in simple moments creates multiple entry points for people who need to feel less alone. Safe spaces aren’t just physical locations; they’re emotional environments where vulnerability meets understanding instead of judgment.
The Healing Power of Owning Your Story:
Blogging forces me to articulate experiences that might otherwise stay tangled in my head. The writing process helps me understand my own emotions more clearly. When I write about complicated family relationships or gender identity struggles, I often discover insights that weren’t apparent until I found words for the experience.
There’s something revolutionary about controlling your own narrative. For too long, other people told stories about what grief should look like, how men should process emotions, or what it means to be transgender. Blogging gives me ownership over how my experiences are presented and discussed.
Building Community Through Shared Truth:
The most unexpected benefit has been the community that formed around shared experiences. People reach out to tell their own stories of loss, identity questions, or finding peace in nature. These connections prove that individual healing contributes to collective healing when we’re brave enough to be honest about our struggles.
Comments become support groups. Email exchanges turn into lasting friendships. Social media shares connect my words with people who needed to read exactly what I wrote on exactly the day they found it. This ripple effect makes the vulnerability of public writing feel worthwhile.
Why This Matters:
Some days blogging feels like shouting into the void. Other days it feels like the most important work I do. The consistency matters more than perfect posts. By showing up regularly to write about real experiences, I’m proving that our messy, complicated stories matter enough to be told with care.
The combination of grief processing, outdoor therapy, and transgender experience sharing might seem random, but it reflects reality: human beings are complex. We don’t fit neat categories, and our healing doesn’t follow predictable patterns. My blog honors that complexity while creating content that might help others navigate their own beautiful, difficult lives.
An Invitation to Connection:
If you’re processing loss, questioning identity, struggling with family relationships, or finding healing in nature, you’re not alone. If you’re looking for authentic stories that don’t tie everything up with neat bows, this space is for you. If you need permission to feel complicated emotions about complicated situations, consider this your invitation.
We heal in community, even when that community exists primarily in digital spaces. By sharing our real experiences, we create opportunities for others to feel seen, understood, and less alone in whatever they’re carrying.
This is why I blog: to process, to connect, to heal, and to remind anyone who needs to hear it that their story matters too. Your struggles are valid. Your questions are welcome. Your healing journey deserves witnesses who understand that growth is messy, nonlinear, and absolutely worth sharing.
I’ve outgrown my adult best friend. The boy I became a man with. The boy who made it feel like I wasn’t alone in a place where nobody felt like me. For years he was the only mirror I had. The only person who got it. Honestly, I’ve been outgrowing him slowly, painfully, one splinter at a time. I didn’t know how to let go. Not until the rope cut so deep I practically sliced my fingers off just trying to hold on. Now there’s no grip left. Just skin and scar. space and peace. I don’t hate him. Which is usually how I let go when my love turns to hate. I just no longer wish to participate in his delusions or fantasies.
Addiction
I’ve also outgrown habitual drug use. Or really, drugs in general. At least the illicit kind. I still like my plants: weed, nicotine, caffeine. Those feel more natural to me. Oh, and mushrooms. Can’t forget the little mushroom dudes. Sometimes they’ve taught me more than any therapist ever did. But the rest of it? That chasing? That hole-filling impulse? That’s gone.
Toxicity
I’ve outgrown toxic patterns. The ones I clung to because they felt like home, mostly outgrown. I mean chaos was the language I was taught love in. I grew up watching relationships rot from the inside out and thought that must be what connection looks like. So I repeated it. Over and over. Until I didn’t. I still have my self-sabotaging hiccups but no one is perfect.
Clothes
I’ve outgrown my clothes. Literally. I dropped over 60 pounds this year. I had told myself I’d do it as my resolution. For once, I didn’t break that promise. My body feels different now. My skin holds me differently. My knees don’t hurt on hikes as quick for sure.
Allowing Myself to Wallow
And maybe the biggest thing? I’ve outgrown the lie that my depression controls everything. Some days, yeah, it wins. But other days, a lot of days, it’s a choice. Not to be sick, but to sit in it. To fester in the filth instead of fighting. I’ve started calling myself out on it. Started crawling out of bed even when I don’t want to. Started facing the rot before it spreads. Because healing is choosing again and again not to let the dark devour you whole. If there’s no light in my line of sight I have learned to become the light.
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What parts of myself feel the most alive under the heat of summer
It’s the version of me that comes out dripping in sweat. There is dirt under my nails. I hold a rock in my hand. It’s the me who forgets what time it is. I’ve been outside too long. I trace trails with my feet and stories with my eyes. Summer makes me reckless in a soft way. Not chaotic. Not destructive. Just free. The sun makes my skin hum. I feel more real when it’s hot enough to blur the edges of things.
Water
I come alive near water. In it. Around it. Listening to the hush and crash of it. Watching the way it sparkles and swallows light and tosses it back up. There’s a version of me that only shows up in July. A version that lets things slide more easily. That laughs more. That eats with bare hands. That lets sweat gather at the back of my neck and doesn’t try to hide it.
Nature is Demanding
I complain about the bugs and the heat but I think I like that too. The way nature demands I participate. I like having to move slower. To swat something away. To know I’m not the only thing alive out here.
The dirt feels like home. The sun feels like a crown. Even when I’m tired. Even when I’m burned out. I am most myself under this fire. My body remembers how to trust itself. My breath gets bigger.
I don’t just exist in summer. I live in it. I stretch. I bloom. I let the world see me without apology.
