A Letter to My Past Self

I see you scribbling out words in the bathroom stall, grinning to yourself about the silly thing you’re planning to do. You doubt it will accomplish anything to give a handwritten note to a musician you admire, but you secretly hope that it will. You have no idea if he’ll read this note, or if he’ll consider your idea to add more female voices to the website he and his brother recently launched. You’re feeling nervous about shaking his hand and looking him in the eye as you hand the note to him, but you’re determined to take this risk.

And here I sit, nearly ten years later typing on a laptop at ten o’clock at night, feeling incredibly proud of you. You have no idea how this one little interaction will change your life for the better. You just can’t imagine how many writers and artists and friends you’re going to meet during the next ten years because of this night. You don’t know if this guy will even read your letter, let alone invite you to submit some of your writing for his fans to read. You don’t realize that in a couple of years you’ll be helping plan a conference for this burgeoning community of creative types from all over America and Europe. You can only dream of having your words printed in a book someday, but little do you know that you’re about to take the first step down a path that leads to this very thing.

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The Price of Sitting

we, the king’s men,
(all four of us)
are tired

and we can’t put Humpty
back together
again

we, the king’s men,
(some of us are women)
have had just about enough

and we don’t really want
to help him up
this time

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Miracles and Monuments

Have you ever had one of those moments where you felt like you finally got what life was all about? Not just life in general, but your own specific life. Have you ever seen, just for a minute, what might be going on behind that miraculous curtain of purpose, and afterward, you knew exactly what to do next, and why? Maybe it sounds too good to be true, but I think I’ve had a few of these revelations in my life. Thing is, I don’t always recognize them while they’re happening. Like those winding mazes we used to solve on the back of a kids’ menu, sometimes the path is easier to see once we’ve made it to the end.

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Invisible Hope

It can be dark,
dark as night.

It can be thick, and damp, and endless.

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Good Grief

“Life is pain, highness” says the blue eyed Westley to his fair Buttercup in The Princess Bride. “Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

But most of us would rather listen to a salesman than Westley; because pain is, well, painful, and we prefer to ignore its thorny role in our lives.

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