Previous I knew I would not allow it to happen again. With just the right internal key, something in me had finally Rubik’s-cubed itself into clarity—not loudly, not triumphantly, but with a quiet internal click. A recalibration. The dusted fingerprints show: I no longer abandon myself. With tightly pressed sound-blocking earmuffs on, I take myContinue reading “Autopsy of the Self (Book Part 37)”
Tag Archives: Writing
Shattering A Illusion (Book Part 36)
Previous I’m often assaulted by my own physiology. The external world is my puppet master — its thick, hairy hand pulling at my strings as I move, speak, perform. Then, after, I scurry off behind the curtain, hyperventilating backstage with my head between my legs, the crumpled brown paper bag rapidly filling and emptying. TheContinue reading “Shattering A Illusion (Book Part 36)”
Alright, Alright, Alright
What’s funny is, I used to not write. I loved it, but didn’t do it. I’d go months thinking about it—like a lover across the sea I couldn’t touch. I romanticized and idealized, falling madly deeper into a delusion. Head over heels with an idea. Which was fine, except I wasn’t actually writing. Now IContinue reading “Alright, Alright, Alright”
Somatic Marker Hypothesis
I operate at a high bit rate—but the fact that hummingbirds operate at a thousand speeds faster means that when I watch them, I relax. Their energy—back and forth, face and fight, in and out for sips, and gone again—becomes something I can hitch my wagon to. I ride along with them, then unhitch, slamContinue reading “Somatic Marker Hypothesis”
Dreaming In Color
Every time I walk by the new-to-me treadmill, I swear I hear its syrupy judgments. “All that downtime, staying barefoot? Can’t put on some tennis shoes? Looks like someone’s avoiding me.” It sits there, looming—watching me when I breeze into the office, when I sit down to schedule clients, or when I casually pass byContinue reading “Dreaming In Color”
Wishin’ and Hopin’
What’s your superpower? Mine? Hang on. I just asked the question—give me a second. It’s not breadmaking. I proudly baked two loaves and tried to gift the second to my neighbors, only to find both houses already had fresh loaves of their own. Like, straight-out-of-the-oven. It’s not pushups, or weeding, or practicing Spanish, unless “yoContinue reading “Wishin’ and Hopin’”
A Strange Reflection (Book Part 34)
Previous Exhausted, frustrated, and pretty damn angry that nothing—not one thing—has felt satisfying, I pull off the highway into Fargo. I take a back road into town and park outside a nondescript bar glowing with tired neon. Inside, I slide onto a high-backed wooden chair at the bar. No one else is here. After aboutContinue reading “A Strange Reflection (Book Part 34)”
After He Said That (Book Part 32)
Previous I didn’t realize how much I’d dropped the mask until it slipped completely. That’s the thing about pretending—you don’t always know you’re doing it until you stop. And at this moment, with Kent, I wasn’t pretending. Not even a little. The dome light is on, allowing details of Kent’s face—ones I hadn’t noticed before—toContinue reading “After He Said That (Book Part 32)”
Breaking the Surface
The urge to write mounts like lava beneath the surface—little bubbles and steam venting into my thoughts and feelings. I’ve heeded its call enough to know when the giddiness and the wiser, more shareable thoughts reach their peak and need release. Right now, I’m in land-sculpting mode. With my trusty Gorilla Cart and lifetime-warranty, all-metalContinue reading “Breaking the Surface”
Where Beasts Roam (Book Part 30)
Previous Side by side, our feet resting on the headlights, Kent and I talk. He teaches elementary school in Manitoba, and with the remaining weeks of his summer break, he’s hiking, adventuring, and exploring national parks. Dehydrated from too much solitude, I drink in communion and belonging, savoring the feeling that someone else gets it.Continue reading “Where Beasts Roam (Book Part 30)”
Going On 40 