weekends
slowly, steadily.
October. 1. The flash fiction piece I submitted a few months ago was selected as a finalist in a contest—and it will be in print sometime in May. 2. Making preparations for the launch of my fall journal writing challenge. I may be over-complicating things or just luxifying. 3. Meditating for several days in a row, just to see what shifts, on Tara Brach's concept If there's nothing wrong with me, who am I then? If I am equipped and loveable, who is that version of me?
mornings
non-negotiable morning routine for proper installation of the self
Wake up before my alarm at still dark o'clock worried about some things and excited about some other things
Cat tending
Read a spiritual text aloud
Gratitude list or affirmations
Put the kettle on for tea (milk oolong)
Write in my journal
Iterate my to-do list
Water the garden
​
Later, meditate
​
Sometimes I forget the order in which Le Sacred Morning Routine flows most smoothly. I'm always tempted to test things like whether washing my face before I brew tea flows better than stretching right away or before watering the garden. I am rarely the same person I was yesterday, so the test is inherently flawed.
evenings
Gently courting reading—a delicate issue since the pandemic
October. Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia; Hell Hath No Fury: Women's Letter from the End of the Affair edited by Anna Holmes; The Hobbit by JRR Tolkein; Intimations by Zadie Smith.
​
September. The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler.
​
July. So You Want to Talk about Race by Ijeoma Oluo; James Baldwin's letter/essay, The Fire Next Time.
​
April. Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay while ignoring that I am super late to the party on this one (the book, not feminism). This collection of essays pairs well with watching every lecture or talk of Ms. Gay's that I can find on YouTube. I'm feeling switched on, smarter and smarter, and like I'm on the verge of something. It's like accidentally getting a caffeinated latte instead of the decaf.