The muse strikes when she sees fit. It doesn’t matter what I am doing, it doesn’t matter where I am. She calls, the words flood my mind, and my heart begins to race, “time to write”. The knowledge that I could force this, if I were to be Pressfield’s “turning Pro”, seems so ludicrous to me; I’ve…
Twenty Twenty
In the silence I feel a pull recently to converse with the creator of time, pleading to alter course for the fate of my children’s future lies in tenuous balance now. Currently, things are just – bizarre. Some of us, perhaps more than “they” speculate, wait here in this holding pattern, breathes held, tongues swollen…
Protected: Current US Tension, Personal Responsibility, and Meditation.
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Anxiety with Purpose
I set out this morning for an early drive through the hill country. Coffee, music, time with the sunrise, God, and organizing plans for the day; this time helps me keep a sense of autonomy, if even for an hour, before I become so many other things to so many other people for the rest…
Driving & Thoughts of Home
Sometime after 930 I snuck into the car and drove away. Having finished cooking and cleaning dinner, and baking my own birthday cake for tomorrow, I felt sufficiently worked for the day; I saw my opportunity and I did not skip a beat. I’ve always been a person who craves being alone. If I had…
Resistance & Grief
Resistance is a bitch. I’ve felt the desire to write for days, but each time I’ve sat at these keys, I am driven to torment – nothing meaningful comes out; I am not accustomed to this because these blank pages are where I pour out my heart. Without this outlet, I am sure to go…
The Face in Your Dreams
I awoke early this morning, March 26th. 6am before the sunrise, well before anyone else in my home wakes to greet another day. I quietly crept around downstairs, gathered my purse, shoes to throw on the seat beside me, the keys, and snuck myself out the door by 6:15 – coffee reheated from the day…
Moving through Anxiety & Fear
This day has been about true self-care. It began with a slow drive down old country roads, blowing brown hair with windows rolled down, blasting the heater to offset the chill of the outside air. I sang loudly, thought deeply about life, and admired the thick fog laden heavy over the wet streets – it…
Peace during COVID19
Life, as we knew it, has changed. I’ve written and deleted, written and deleted, about fifteen sentences before that one and gone on five different tangents about this or that, but nothing fits how I am feeling other than to say: Everything has changed. It feels too simplified and almost alarmist at its core to…
This Burning Heart
I’ve always carried a heavy heart in my chest – all my life I was told I am “too sensitive” and emotional; my dad always said to me, “You’re bringing me down, Chrissy”, I remember this from such a young age. I learned that how I felt, and how others perceived it, was a reflection…
