that pen i bought that was thick ran out of ink already.
it got plum tuckered out, too.
it got tired of writing the same words over and over, like, it's going to be okay, your life will be good and full of joy you will be led to a path of joy all things will work together for your good you can be happy now you are strong and big
it's okay. i don't need you to say anything back if you don't know what the heck i talk about any time here. that is alright. i just need you to listen. is that okay?
i'm practicing being brave and listening to all of the insides of me.
i'm practicing just acting when those inklings come. not waiting like, hey, is that You? i just do it. i just turn off my iPod for the last half of my run because i thought it might be good to listen. the next day i run all iPod-less and hear the thump of my heavy footsteps and my labored breathing. things get ugly. i am so ugly when i run. my nose gets snotty. my eyes get watery and bawly. my face gets read and drippy and sweaty. and maybe i didn't feel anything huge or mondo because i'm iPodless but i responded, and i'm practicing that being the important part.
but that pen gave me pages and pages of quoted stuff with exclamation points that meant my heart was leaping all around in its cage, even if i sat there studying and thinking and pondering so long that my butt fell asleep. (has that ever happened to you? it is very odd.)
pages and pages like HEY, what about this? I want to think about THIS more. It means a lot to me. it means a lot of soul work.
i have a lot of opportunities. to brush my teeth bloody, organize my desk, do the dishes a hundred times. lay things down and get lots of sleep. slosh around. i'm trying to practice being nice to myself and not beating myself up about feeling certain ways, like a bag of bricks or oozy tar.
but it's all okay.