When I feel stress today, I will pause and ask myself: Is it an emergency? I am making this more stressful and complicated than it really is? What is the next step?
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The world is broken and the world is burning and the world is beautiful. Things are never simple, and yet there's a simplicity in claiming the complexity.
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The slightest fissure -- a hairline fracture in a massive piece of rock -- that is the place in a piece of writing where the whole story might break wide open.
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We might still be alone in some ways, but alone is not the same as isolated. Alone is not the same as hiding. Alone is not the same as lonely.
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Happy International Women's Day, my friends. Keep being brave. Keep seeing your own beauty -- right there in the mirror.
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You may think you have nothing
important to say, nothing important
to give — it’s a lie. Stop trying so hard.
Anyone lucky enough to love you
better know it.
She went back to her car and the officer came back to ours a few minutes later. Apparently, this was not her first encounter with the other driver. “Oh, I’ve dealt with her before. She’s always like that,” she said.
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It’s my business to never shut up. To smile only when I feel like smiling. To keep doing my own work of healing a nervous system that cranks up in a millisecond if I feel scolded or scared.
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You are not required to learn form these experiences, but your world will be richer and your relationships stronger if you do. And there is no avoiding them, lest we live in a fragile, entitled state of needing everything to go our way.
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I bet she’d be intrigued, excited, relieved, and a good deal terrified, knowing some big shit awaited her but also that somehow she’d get through it intact.
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It’s not pretty to look at the parts of ourselves that exemplify the things we say we’re against — entitlement, white privilege, intellectual snobbery. But to not look at these, to choose to stay cloistered, sheltered, more “successful” in ways society recognizes and values, and what we may have been taught would be “safer,” is inexcusable for anyone who claims to care about justice and humanity.
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A deep breath. The light changing so subtly and gradually, it’s almost impossible to discern. But soon enough, it will be dark outside. We’ll sleep once more, than start all over again.
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I had that itch earlier to write. For hours and hours. To figure out where I’ve been and pull all the different colored ribbons together in a big bright bow. Alas. That is not this. This is more like lurching towards the writing, like driving a stick-shift when you’ve only ever driven an automatic.
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On my bedside table, so many books. Half-read books, unread books. Paperbacks, hardcovers. On my head, more grey hairs every day. I pluck them, not in battle but more like a new hobby. My skin is changing. My life is changing.
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