I have several aha moments. Which might not be aha to anyone other than me, but that’s what makes them the aha moments they are, yes? Recognizable, feel-able, only to me, a popping in my heart. I needed them, was ready, am grateful. It snows at the beginning of the week. To see snow covering the pink blossoms on … Continue reading popping
Tag: writing life
brave
I write a list of times that I’ve been brave. I almost don’t write the list because I’m afraid I won’t have anything to write. But, in a moment of bravery, I put pen to page. I write one thing and then another and then another. I fill the page. Maybe I’m brave after all. Early in the week, there … Continue reading brave
ridiculously lovely
I am writing, writing, writing. Lists and questions and rambling scribbles. Which sounds rather friendly, don’t you think, rambling scribbles? I like the sound of that, the freedom implied—at least to my ears, my eyes, my heart. The freedom to carry on as long, or as short, as I like. To write with abandon, messy or neat, little or big, insightful … Continue reading ridiculously lovely
just snow
There is snow, then ice, which makes for heavy and tedious shoveling of a not-short driveway. The saving grace is the four of us, shoveling in unison. The air is crisp and cold but our bodies are warm and we are strong, especially together. I am keenly aware of opposites this week. The cold, the warm. The wakefulness, the … Continue reading just snow
shingles-free
A friend tells me about a lovely offering during the month of December. I sign up, I am eager. On day four, I fall behind. I try to practice what I preach when working with my own students: there is no ‘behind’; take things in the way that works for you; it’s okay to work in another way … Continue reading shingles-free
but first, this
I feel the thoughts spreading like wildfire. I think I feel them, or maybe I hear them, does it matter? I only know that if I don’t extinguish the flames soon they will burn everything down. I take another sip, noting the warmth of the mug in my hands, delighting in the sweetness upon my tongue. First, this. The … Continue reading but first, this
spaces
After writing about fluctuations in daily temperatures last week, the cold seems to be settling. I am chilled each morning despite the socks and slippers, the wool sweaters. But I can’t—I won’t—though I could—complain. I say that I love the cold weather, and I do. But my body shivers the same as yours. I look to … Continue reading spaces
the same thing
Sometimes I want to write and not-write at the same time. How can there be something inside, begging to be spelled out, but also too tired, too timid to show face? Ah, but when I think of it that way, it makes perfect sense. I sauté the onions, add tomatoes and water, salt, pepper. I simmer, blend, eat. Delicious. … Continue reading the same thing