You Are Here
Last week, I was trying to push through the routines I had created for myself, and noticed sadness had settled in my chest. I didn’t quite know how much it weighed, let alone how to remove it. Out the window it was both raining and snowing, adding to the heavy texture of the day. I took a picture of the raindrops sliding down the glass, opened up a new window on my laptop, and typed out this poem: As the rain trickles, I am also reaching down to where I am grounded. I ache for the slow journey downward to be smooth and effortless like the raindrops gliding down cool glass. And I exhaled, feeling content with the way my creative practices can bring me home. This past weekend, my sister and I took a trip to New York City. After settling into her friend’s apartment on the upper west side, we set out to go for a walk in Morningside Park. The sun was shining, it was 55 degrees and just so serene all I could do was turn to Gretchen and say “this feels...