Giving Thanks: A list

It's a little hokey and a lot sentimental but today instead of a regular post
I thought I'd give myself a bit of a day off for the holiday. Instead of a full on post I've decided to list some things I am deeply thankful for (I will continue to add to this list throughout the day):

• The family I was born into, they taught me kindness, simple joy, and give me more love then I'll ever know what to do with
• The family I have chosen, who trust me more than anyone else to be myself, no matter how messy and confusing
• My partner Strand, without whom I'm not sure how I could fight through my health problems, who's love makes all the hard conversations worthwhile.
• My friends, who are too varied and wonderful to account for in a single list

• Regular access to good food and a good kitchen
• Cycling/Bikes
• The energy and inspiration to write 
• Poetry
• My colleagues, fellow poets, novelists and writers of all types, who give me such magical support
• My failures, which have taught me so much.
• A good pair of boots
• The financial flexibility to travel and make drastic changes in my diet
• Adventure
• Bathtubs
• A body that lets me know pretty instantly when something hurts or is wrong
• Ibuprofen
• Lotion
• Cuddles
• Empathy
• Life changing teachers
• Lists and the calm they bring me
• I've finally reached 50,000 (two days early woot!)
  
  
  
  
  

Soupsgiving

Thanksgiving is coming up, and writing about poverty yesterday inevitably brought up realizations about how much I value things in my life, and how joy can live in such simple things.

The weather is beautiful. It's slightly chilly, but during the day needing nothing more than a hoodie or a flannel to keep decently warm.

I've been absolutely loving the bright and breezy Bay Area November. Every day I'm shocked to see the sun is still shining and that the days are still so long.

I'm from Seattle and right now up there the sky is awash with frozen oysters and dead nuns. The ground frosts over every night. I'm certain that the absence of its drear and cold have improved my mood, but even in this perfectly SF serviceable weather, some cavern of my heart still aches with the chill.

This morning at the grocery store I felt the tug of root vegetables. I dreamt of soup steam and now this afternoon I'm stewing up a warming broth. It seems a funny contrast to the loving sunshine streaming in the windows, but the smell is delicious and rich with comfort.

Winter is the season for soup, and I don't need it to be cold to boot up my rituals of comfort.

So tonight joy will be broth. The garlic will soft and eventually I will add the tender of mushrooms.

Cold Hard

Today writing was hard. I really didn't want to show up for my writing today.
I just wanted curl in in bed for the entire afternoon. Even when I got down to writing it seemed it was mostly no good, and it was slow going, taking three hours to reach the minimum 1,667/day required by this NaBloWriMo challenge.

I've had a cold for the last few days. During breakfast while my partner and I were geeking out about tiny houses my cold came down hard with sinus pressure and a micro-migraines. A crown of pain and ringing developed and grew. The constant burble of cafe noise became tinny radio chatter turned about three ticks too loud. Even behind my sunglasses the california sunlight was piercing to the point of disorientation.

Even now, hours later, after he's taken the train back to the city, as I sat in this room with the lights switched off and the filtered lights coming in from the closed blinds and my computer's screen reduced to it's dimmest setting, I feel my heart warm to think of the house we drew together this morning. I am lucky to have him in my life. Despite the cold.

Even in this dark painful place I have enough to show up for writing today. I feel the resistance. It's hot and piercing like sunlight. But I can handle it I am here for the day. I even had a story idea strike me last night. A fortune as unexpected as daylight savings.

I think the organ in my body that produces new ideas somehow remembered that last night I would be allowed one more hour to sleep. And that meant one more hour of scheming creativity.

Committing to daily blogpost this month has required me to severely scale back my expectations. The part of me that is still afraid people will notice I am not really all that exceptional is screaming that this is a bad idea. But I disagree. I'm messy, complicated, and sometimes I break down. This is especially apparent if I don't give myself the time to clean/edit.

I am still reeling about the fact that I would've liked more time to hold onto and mull over the concepts I posted about yesterday. I'm working on being more okay with the mess of my work. And it's important work. I don't have to stop work on my ideas just because they've been published/become public.

So yes. Today was a hard one. But I believe in the power of showing up so I am here for my craft and for myself. If you are reading this thank you. I'm glad you showed up too.