Part of the agitation I’ve been feeling comes from failure to be disciplined, inability to see a path or progress and a tendency to go to extremes. It’s not that I want to reign anything in, but I do want to be more aware and purposeful. So finding that poster gave me an idea: look at the three experiences (eat, pray, love) as a useful organizing principle for that effort.
It’s not always easy to toot your own horn, but you must. You must. You must. You must. “These days,” said the old lady poet, “it’s one of the only ways to get your work out there.” You’re on social media scrolling and scrolling anyway, and you’re probably using it to praise other writers at least some of the time. Throw yourself a bone.
“Fuel” is my word for 2018. I want to fuel my mind and my body. I want to create energy instead of allowing it to drain out. So that’s my focus for 2018: behaviors and decisions that fuel me, that move me forward.
It’s easy to believe that loss is what makes us who we are. But when I consider the kindness and generosity people have shared with me, my body feels different. What if I could trace light as the through thread?
What’s sticking with me post-hike is what’s left: the tracks, the station and a few poles presumably for electricity. It has me thinking about how we’re connected to one another and to wilderness and how being connected to one another is its own magnificent — and treacherous — wilderness.
On my fridge, I have a photo of my son from 13 or 14 years ago holding a baby chick. He’s seated in a chicken coop, cupped hands like a nest. Small as he is, the chick is even smaller. I read on his face a budding capacity for wonder and gratitude. This creature is so precious, and I have the chance to hold it. *I* do. *Me.*
And so I make toast. But not just any toast. It’s the omg-do-you-know-what-would-taste-so-good-right-now-?! toast, also known in my family as “pan toast.” Medium hot skillet. Melted butter. Bread. It’s better than toaster toast because the bread stays moist on the inside. It melts in your mouth. Pan toast is not Pinterest-worthy. It’s not Instagrammable. But it’s everything you ever need: comfort.