This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a randomly drawn winner a signed special edition copy of the book. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Nestled amidst the serene, reborn landscape of what was once a raging inferno, my yurt stands as a testament to resilience and renewal. For those unfamiliar, a yurt is a circular tent traditionally used by nomadic cultures.
My temporary home, where I have been living for the last two years, is a 24-foot giant tent with canvas walls, and a dome skylight that brings the outside world into my living space. This yurt has become my sanctuary as I rebuild my life and home on the land scarred by the 2020 CZU Lightning Complex fires in the mountains above Santa Cruz, California.
Every morning, I open my eyes to the soft light filtering through the clear dome that stands directly in the center of the yurt’s ceiling . It offers a panoramic perspective of the sky. Sadly, where trees once stood, the sky is now clear and the ocean visible from my land.
The landscape, once charred and lifeless, now bursts with new growth. The blackened trees were milled last year and are being used to build my new home. My goal was to give them new life. From devastation to rebirth - sounds like the story of my life.
Living in a yurt has its challenges, but it also brings unexpected joys. The circular design creates a sense of openness and community, a far cry from the rigid, box-like structures of conventional homes. The yurt's simplicity encourages a minimalist lifestyle, focusing on what truly matters. With each passing day, I grow more appreciative of the small comforts and the direct connection to nature that this unique dwelling offers. At the same time, I am anxious to finish my new home so I have space again and places to put things!
As I work on my new house daily, the view from my yurt keeps me grounded. It reminds me why I chose to return to this sacred land and rebuild. The process is slow and often daunting, yet it fuels my determination. My new home will be more than just a structure; it will be a symbol of my journey through loss, resilience, and renewal.
Resilience isn’t inherited. It’s a hard-fought skill forged by our ability to pick up the broken pieces of our past and remake them into something new.
Meet four-year-old Delicia, a poor but carefree child who is about to have her world shattered. Along with her seven-year-old brother Nile, she is kidnapped from her Los Angeles home by her estranged father and taken to Iraq, a foreign world she has never known. This is just the beginning of a string of traumas, hardships, and assaults Delicia will endure throughout her tumultuous childhood.
Now an adult living back in California, Delicia Niami bravely recounts how she survived the unimaginable in her debut memoir. Kissing Asphalt, the first in her memoir trilogy, ResilientAF, grapples with the power of resilience, acceptance, and self-love. She revisits her terrifying past with vulnerability, compassion, and the honesty of a true survivor. Hold hands with Delicia as she faces her childhood scars and learns how to confront her fears, accept her true value and identity, and embrace her unique gifts. It’s a multi-decade roller coaster ride that is the beginning of her liberation, propelling her to live an inspired life and embrace her full human potential—a human potential she knows lives inside everyone, no matter what life has thrown at us.
For anyone who has struggled with childhood trauma, Delicia’s unflinching journey through darkness and back to light will resonate. She has decided to share her story publicly in hopes that it will serve as a guide to the many who have suffered in silence and continue to struggle against the daunting weight imposed by childhood trauma.
Enjoy an Excerpt
It was a sunny day in Arleta, California. A layer of smog covered the sky, giving it the most illustrious orange hue. My brother and I were anxiously awaiting our five-day Easter vacation with our father. Our parents were going through a tumultuous divorce and had been separated for about a year at this point. I felt extremely sad because I never got to see my “dad.” I thought it odd that he cut all ties with our family, especially his own children. At only four years of age, I couldn’t understand the concept of a father wanting nothing to do with his kids. Imagine the excitement my brother, who was seven at the time, and I felt after almost a year of not seeing him. Now we were going to get to spend five whole days for Easter with our “dad.”
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ReplyDeleteLooks like a very interesting book.
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