I wish I would have learned how to properly play but fun with others has never been something natural to me.

I was reading through Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic the other evening and a line from this book stopped and made me think in a way only Liz can.

“Possessing a creative mind, after all, is something like having a border collie for a pet: It needs work, or else it will cause you an outrageous amount of trouble.”

I don’t always trust my memory. It is a place things go to change, to become greater, heavier, and more sad than they originally were.

My elbows ached. The job of constantly pushing and pulling is a big task for such a little joint, and I rarely give them a break.

I suppose that’s why I pulled him into me so firmly when my elbows begged me to stop. Or perhaps it was my body sending this message of stop to my elbows.

I see a lot of men in this stack of Tarot. They are scattered throughout this tiny world of cards in various poses, actions, and successes.

I woke up this morning and the sky was startlingly blue. I was out surveying my tulips when it caught me. I looked hard into its vastness and I became entangled.

Why did the sky choose today to become so blue and why so early in the day, I thought.

When I think of speaking up I don’t always think of choice or opportunity. I think of force. I do not arrive to speaking up but it arrives to me. It moves in like a wind I cannot stop. I can choose to either go with the wind or I am pushed down by it. It flattens me to the ground and I lay there unable to move.

With him, it was sets of words. He was really good at all words but it’s how he would piece together little words that got me.

I don’t remember when she started calling me Cana but it has always been a name floating in the spare space between us.

If I had a dollar for every time someone told me, work is work you don’t have to like it, I would have SO many dollars.

I’m talking, as many dollars as it would take to allow me the financial freedom to carefully pick freelance writing gigs from a beach in Bali.

I melt into the cooking of things I like in the mornings. I stand upon my bit of earth, coffee in hand, and begin my day with a thing that is mine.

Isn’t that what the earth wants us to do? Feed ourselves and nurture ourselves so we can be atop it for a while. It does not wish to consume us down into its surface.