You want to start a blog. You want to have a regular writing routine—something to hold you accountable. Your writerly, daily vitamins.
Rilke’s words, You must change your life, keep repeating over in the mind. To keep both flexibility and structure, you choose a two-pronged blogging approach.
The words “I” and “me” and “mine” have worn out. Can the personal essay be less personal, and more person-all? Writers want connection—so come right in, through skin and flesh and soul and second person. You’re here. We’re here. These are our stories.
There is personhood in both small and big things.
As someone who knows anxiety, sadness, you realize each life piece keeps you alive.
The velvet lining of violin strings.
The precise feeling of salt wind on skin when you sit at the bow of a speeding boat.
Phototherapy lamps over your jaundiced body.
Your dog’s hungry growls in the morning.
Sunshine in the Pacific North West.
An answer to a phone call.
Rain in the Pacific North West.
Splashes of hot tomato soup on your wrist while you stir.
Your best friend’s embrace during a panic attack.
Electric guitar, plucked, not strummed.
The way SCUBA diving slows your breath.
A dislocated knee.
Milk as a time-lapsed sky when poured into tea.
Your mother driving with you in a car seat, swerving to miss a tractor trailer, but hits a dog instead.
All moments pull into the next. Every second, you’re saving your life.