5 Minute Writing Project


I’m listening. I come back again and again to a sense of open curiosity. A willingness to be wrong. A willingness to fuck up, over & over & over. But hopefully not the same fuck ups. That’s the goal. Slow steps in the growth direction without pause or reversing course. What’s important to me? Following through. Being there for people who are hurting, be them family or strangers. Being proud of my actions and aligning them with my morals. The ability to check my ego, check my defense, and listen. Listening isn’t just giving someone the air space to talk. It’s giving them your headspace too. How often does my inner monologue deter true listening?

Day 5 of my #545healthiestme writing project.

I didn’t meditate every day this week, like last week, but I did sit two or three times. Last week’s “project” (I think I prefer this language even to “game”) of sitting everyday definitely brought meditation to the top of my toolbox, right there available to me when I need to grab it.

I hope you all have a beautiful day.



I sit and wonder

Is there hope.
There is hope.

Without change there is no hope.
Without change we have history


When I close my eyes I see

This is not black and white
“They” do not exist.

We are all shades of gray.

Or the color purple?
How many shades of purple are there?

enough for all of us.

Day 2 of 5 minutes daily writing for #545healthiestme

The following is EXCERPTED from the song

All Our Bruised Bodies And The Whole Heart Shrinks
By La Dispute

So now tell me how your story goes. Have you ever suffered?
If so, did you get better or have you never quite recovered from it?

Show me all your bruises. I know everybody wears them.
They broadcast the pain-how you hurt, how you reacted.

Have you had a moment forced the whole heart to grow or retract?

Or just shrink.
Does the heart shrink?

Tell me everything. Tell me everything you know.

Were you told as a child how cruel the whole world can be?
Did anybody ever tell you that?
Tell me what your purpose is? Who it was that put you here and why?
Did anybody really put you here at all?
And what of those necessities? Like how to cope with tragedy and pain?
Did anybody ever show you how?
When it hits will my heart burst or break or grow strong?
Is there really only one way to know now?

I’m not sure if I’m ready yet to find out the hard way
How strong I am. What I’m made of.
I’m not sure I am ready yet to walk through the fire.
I’m not sure I can handle it.
Do you think if the heart keeps on shrinking
One day there will be no heart at all?
And how long does it take?
Am I better off just bursting or breaking?
Because I don’t see my heart getting strong.

Tell your stories to me. Show your bruises.
Let’s see what humanity is capable of handling.

Tell me what your worst fears are. I bet they look a lot like mine.
Tell me what you think about when you can’t fall asleep at night.
Tell me that you’re struggling. Tell me that you’re scared. No,
Tell me that you’re terrified of life.
Tell me that it’s difficult to not think of death sometimes.
Tell me how you lost. Tell me how he left. Tell me how she left.
Tell me how you lost everything that you had.
Tell me that it ain’t ever coming back.
Tell me about God. Tell me about love.
Tell me that it’s all of the above.
Say you think of everything in fear.
I bet you’re not the only one who does.

Everyone in the world comes at some point to suffering.
I wonder when I will. I wonder.
Everyone is out searching for someone or something.
I wonder what I’ll find. I wonder.

Everyone in the world comes at some point to suffering.
I wonder when I will. I wonder.
Everyone is out searching for someone or something.
I wonder what I’ll find. I wonder.