Play can be a form of resistance in a world that tries to make us serious, hardened, isolated, compliant, productive, and exhausted if only we can remember how to enjoy ourselves and each other.
My experiment in regaining a sense of curiosity, creativity, and playfulness not just in the times I set aside to indulge my wannabe artist but, in my life overall.
Rumi’s “The Guest House” is an invitation to be present to whatever season of life you are in, and to entertain the moment to moment experience of it. As someone who is still learning to acknowledge, accept, and appreciate all emotions, I find Rumi’s words both comforting and challenging.
By the end of a rough 2016, I knew I wanted to make a gesture that would symbolize the beginning of something new for me. Although I was not and had never been a runner, running the Go St. Louis! half marathon crept into my mind. During that spring, the time, energy, and concentration I expended on running became holy.
For this post, I decided to curate a list of some “not-so-easy-breezy-beachy” books that I absolutely recommend.
After hearing about a peer’s commitment to the present moment, I have realized that I too default to sharing about experiences with a clear distinction of “then” versus “now.” I am taking her words as an invitation to practice honesty and truth-telling in the present instead of waiting three months to write you a post about insights on my current experience.
There are those who dedicate their whole careers to helping people gain access to various resources, but there are also ways we can be stewards of access in our every day lives by sharing knowledge and information that can ease a small bit of another’s suffering. For me, it currently is sharing a code to the restroom at Whole Foods.
Writing letters became a ritual for slowing down, being intentional with my words, and inviting others into my experience.
Through photography, I can be connected to the past, grounded in the present moment, and aware of the future all at the same time.
By the end of our JVC year, my housemates and I were a community because we stuck together through the endless flux of not always liking each other while trying to love one another.