If you discovered a treasure this week (a new friend, a snow fairy, a fancy dish at the thrift store, a bird’s nest) please do share it, as well as any links, in the comments section below.
Earlier this week (or late last week), my friend Maddie and I were talking about ways to swim in the deeper waters of our creative processes. She mentioned a few books that she was reading, and while I was talking to her, phone wedged under my chin, nose running steadily (I’m all about honesty! I’m getting over a really bad cold), I slid to my bookshelf and plucked peomcrazy by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge off of it.
I was 21 the last time I read this. I was writing a poem a week for my writing class, and I was probably sleeping on some patch of grass somewhere with a tub of couscous and a mug of tea planted by my feet. The pages are a bit yellowed. Time has passed.
When I read through the pages that I had marked up and folded over, I was pleased with my 21 year old self. I would totally still underline the part about the hollow tree and the squirrel furniture.
I am still me. My path makes sense. Deep breaths.