Thoughts on my grandmothers passing
“All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. Writers are like that: remembering where we were, what valley we ran through, what the banks were like, the light that was there and the route back to our original place. It is emotional memory-what the nerves and the skin remember as well as how it appeared. And a r... See more
Slowness in the grief.
Or perhaps a reminder that the pain is a little less vivid with each passing day?
This is a statement that clearly states what it feels,
People said it would get better with time, but the guilt that rest between time and better is eating at me. I cry less, well not much at all. How quickly the vividness of your passing has left me, or maybe reality wont fully allow for it
fog and introspection.
Spread the Jelly
this is it for sure
Good writing is meditative writing. It’s a polished and cohesive train of thought, devoid of superfluous babble. If intrusive thoughts make their way into your writing and you neglect to edit them out, your work will suffer. Quality writing does not arise from a stream of consciousness or absent-mindedness. It’s a practice of meditating on a specif... See more
Jen Hitze • Attention, Distraction, and Your Responsibility
Being human is not hard because you're doing it wrong, it's hard because you're doing it right. You will never change the fact that being human is hard, so you must change your idea that it was ever supposed to be easy
glennon doyle • Untamed by Glennon Doyle
It’s the dying that does it, always. I started here; I end here (we all end here). It is amazing how the death of someone you love exposes this lie you tell yourself, that there’ll always be time. You can go months or even years without speaking to a dear old friend and feel fine about it, blundering along, living your life. But discover that this ... See more
Jennifer Senior • It’s Your Friends Who Break Your Heart
Yeah there is a nana size hole
our lives, thanks to their finitude, are inevitably full of activities that we’re doing for the very last time. Just as there will be a final occasion on which I pick up my son—a thought that appalls me, but one that’s hard to deny, since I surely won’t be doing it when he’s thirty—there will be a last time that you visit your childhood home, or sw... See more
Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals
pretty much this