continue on.

“Life was meant to be lived, and curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.”
Eleanor Roosevelt

So, you wake and want to wring your fists against door handles…find a way out through rust and bone.

So, you think you’ve reached your point as all the callouses on your skin call out stop signs and search out potholes to slither toward.

So, your tongue has numbed and your teeth have lost their ability to forgive you and who ever thinks about aging when skin still appears tight enough to trampoline on.

So, you found a grey hair in an area of your body no one was ever meant to see anyway.

So, you leave it there.

So, it reminds you you’re still around.

So, it represents the worries–the kind that no longer get you.

So, sometimes the ash between black and white or fade of color that used to be bright only means that you’ve remained one more morning.

So, you might as well continue on. This curious pattern of aging can be worn in more ways than just sad.


existence of gratitude

“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”
Eleanor Roosevelt, You Learn by Living: Eleven Keys for a More Fulfilling Life


Dear Dad,
You inspire me to remain. To acknowledge that sometimes we inhale breaths that are sour. That are tattered and raw. You tell me that there is a reason for all this…that definitions sometimes arrive long after we learn the words. You called me a writer far longer than I could pronounce that word myself. You remind me to give away my words. Remind me to keep carrying ink even on the days I feel like there is nothing to drip out. Thank you for existing. Thank you for continuing to exist.
[happy birthday]

beyond breath control.

When I meet someone new, their first question becomes one I am often ready for.

What do you do?

My answer? I breathe.

“Do one thing every day that scares you.”
― Eleanor Roosevelt

I’ve carried this Eleanor Roosevelt quote with me to every apartment and home I’ve lived in. I want to remind myself that sometimes I need to be uncomfortable in order to remember how to survive and move beyond it. When I find myself in yoga class, upside down or stretched in a position where I am suddenly aware of all my bones, sometimes I forget to breathe. Sometimes I forget that my body is like a machine. Switches often turn off and we often must manually turn them back on.

Beyond breathing, sometimes this frightening activity includes engaging. Walking toward someone and letting them know how stunning their brain is or maybe it’s about entering a room full of strangers or beginning a new job or letting go of an activity or human that is just not right for you.

Eleanor said it best, but I’d revise and say do two things or try out a day full of things that scare you. These are the days when you validate not only your existence, but your bravery.