This can be our online gathering place to encourage one another, share work, and build community--one word at a time.
A couple of disclaimers:
- I want to keep the security settings minimal in order to share this link easily, so please use reasonable caution in any personal information you post.
- Comments will be open, and I encourage everyone to post constructive comments often! I do reserve the right to delete anything that doesn't contribute to the positive environment we want to cultivate, but I will always get at least one other person's opinion (probably Roger's) before I take something down.
New posts will go up every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday with a short quote or mindfulness exercise to help you center yourself as you start work and a prompt from 642 Things to Write about Me (check out the whole series--I know what's going on my Christmas list!) or other resources as noted.
Today's mindfulness exercise is from Jon Kabat-Zinn's Wherever You Go, There You Are (p. 147):
TRY: Bringing awareness to walking, wherever you find yourself. Slow it down a bit. Center yourself in your body and in the present moment. Appreciate the fact that you are able to walk, which many people cannot. Perceive how miraculous it is, and for a moment, don't take for granted that your body works so wonderfully. . . . Walk with dignity and confidence, and as the Navaho saying goes, walk in beauty, wherever you are.
So go for a walk, and then write 250-500 words on the following:
Describe "the dish your mom always cooked that you wished she wouldn't. What did it look like, smell like, taste like?" (this is from 642 Things but I thought it was a fun twist on the prompt we used last night).
Post your responses in the comments--sharing work is a great way to discover new and unexpected things about each other!
Emily! This is amazing. Thank you so much! - Roger
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome!
ReplyDeleteI apologize if anyone else is experiencing technical glitches. This post is from John Wallace, but the blog wouldn't let him post it as a comment.
ReplyDeleteGreen and granulated, stinking up the house, triggering a gag reflex: Stouffer’s spinach soufflé. At least that’s how I remember it. Dad loved the stuff, so Mom bought it for him, stuck it in the oven for 30 minutes, and, voilà!, instant side. Let me add that Mom was a good cook, a fact that leads me to conclude, with too many years’ perspective, that either Mom didn’t like the stuff any more than I did, or she didn’t want to spend her kitchen time on such an unworthy excuse for food. It put creamed corn, gratineed potatoes, and green bean casserole to shame. Let’s consider color – that electrifying green; smell – a stench that wafted across the street, undoubtedly causing any guests that Mom or Dad had invited on those nights to pull up to the curb, sniff, and flee; taste – the one or two times I choked a little down, I had to excuse myself from the table before it reappeared; vegetable abuse – healthy spinach drowned by cheese and milk and God-knows-what-else in a devilish concoction that not even a self-respecting stray dog would touch.
I love spinach leaves and might have done as a kid had it not been for the soufflé. I don’t mind lightly cooked spinach. But a spinach soufflé, whether from a box or homemade, always draws forth a visceral response. I can feel the gag coming on in the back of my mouth. And while that might remind me of home growing up, it’s not the home I want to remember.