Outside my window is a very tall pine tree. It’s full of new growth, thin spindly long branches that grow up and out. Fat little birds will perch on the very end of these branches, relaxed as the skinny branch curves and bows under their weight into an upside down C. How do they understand the pliability of the branch?
My mom once told me “Don’t pray for patience because you’ll be shown how to be patient in ways you never wanted to imagine.”
I try to never assume. Sometimes saying a prayer fills me with the same feeling I get before I assemble a wall unit from IKEA.
You are driving me up the wall. I see right through your bravado—I think the only one you’re fooling is you. And the neediness. It makes me want to push you off like a slime.
Going to high school in Austin, MN—the Home of Hormel—grants one particular access. Unless you too grew up in a meat packing town, I doubt you know what I’m talking about.
I am a believer in the power of words, the raw, knock you on your ass, change everything power of words. Some words change minds, some words change history change history.
When I walk outside, dinosaurs don’t chase me. I don’t see danger at every turn. My fight or flight response rarely if ever has good cause to kick in.
Tested.
Steeled.
Trial by fire.
Sometimes what feels really bad is really good for us. In a there’s no other way to get this information kind of way.
I’m finding that I like to designate a new year *The Year of Fill InThe Blank* before I get too far into it. Sort of give it a theme, like a ride and Disneyland.
We all have hopes and dreams—goals we’re working towards—projects we’re passionate about. These things light our fire, fuel us and often times become a part of our identity.
Take all choice away. Just grind me down to a nub. Shove and elbow me right to the very edge. Force me into a corner, take away my wet paint brush and turn off the lights.