Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl

I don’t want to write. I know because I keep cutting off my thoughts before they fully take shape on the page. Delete, delete, delete. There’s this unrelenting expectation of authenticity, like a bloodhound sniffing out what’s not genuine. And when it finds something lacking, it vetoes the idea without hesitation. I’m not a fan.Continue reading “The Battle with the Blank”

I’m worried my foot’s heel is going to get infected. Remember that callus cheese-slice grater I was gifted for Christmas that I over-shaved my foot with? Well, now three deep cracks have formed, like little river tendrils, and I’ve been tending to them. My routine: hydrogen peroxide for cleaning, followed by wrapping my foot inContinue reading “The Healing Heel”

Lately, I’m on a health food kick—not the “pile-your-plate-with-veggies” kind, but the “revitalize-your-gut” kind. Fermented foods like sourdough and kefir are the stars of my kitchen right now. One health book I read suggested setting a goal of introducing 200 foods (including spices) into your diet in a month to diversify your microbiome and promoteContinue reading “Fermentation Station”

When I force myself to write, I resist. I’m a stubborn donkey that way. It’s much better to gently invite myself to the page and remind myself of the value of spending some quiet time with my thoughts. Now that I think of it, I actually do a lot of caring things for myself duringContinue reading “Blow, Grow, Let Go”

As I squeegeed the glass shower wall—my least favorite chore—I found my mind wandering to writing. I thought about the world I’ve created on the page and felt that familiar push and pull: how much does it reflect reality, and how much of it is my own imagining? “You have a vivid imagination,” I’ve beenContinue reading “Twinkle and Tinker”

Like the White Rabbit’s frantic chant—“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!”—I hurry myself forward. When did it start, I wonder? A pocket watch stretches to the tip of my nose, the numbers blurring as I strain to see. I’m so this that to be anything else feels like losing the thread of who I am.Continue reading “Finding Light’s Compass”

I dared to dream a dream—a dream of sledding, tubing, and making snow angels. It felt like a distant fantasy, but a quick search on Google revealed something unexpected. Ober Mountain Ski Resort, nestled in the ancient Great Smoky Mountains, was just a mere 5-hour drive away. The “smoke” I once assumed was the grayContinue reading “Snow Much Fun”

I’m all in for gross things—like experiencing the orgasmic sensation that comes with the volcanic-like surfacing of deep-rooted cysts and blackheads, or the moment when metal pinchers, under a microscopic lens, pry away the flaky, sticky earwax, like a lollipop that a kid licked and left out on the counter. I fell into a paragraphContinue reading “Callous for Concern”

Pressing my fingerprint on my laptop’s upper-right button unlocks it. I was surprised it worked, considering my fingers still feel snake-like after crafting. But here I am, waiting for the six-inch sticks superglued into a star shape to dry. Once they’re ready, we’ll tether the star to our homemade branch tree. Fairy lights and miniContinue reading “Virtual PNWing”

In bed, Dave’s on my left. Just below me on the floor is Evelyn, snuggled in her unicorn sleeping bag with an attached pillow—her head resting on its horn and muzzle. “I wanted a better life for you,” I think as I watch her flip through the pages of a book. We just returned fromContinue reading “A Long Winter’s Nap”