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77. Trying to Schedule an Ultrasound at Twenty-Five (it’s impossible)
Today I rose at what felt like the dead of night. A wicked alarm at the foot of my bed came all-too-early: 6 AM to ensure enough time to make room in my bladder for a prescribed 32 ounces of water one hour prior to my ultrasound appointment. I scheduled the appointment for 8 AM on the first Monday of…
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76. Trying To Not Steal at Twenty-Five
On Asteya (non-stealing) On registering desire and attaining the desired through legitimate means Question(s): What am I stealing? What do I want? What drives humans to steal? How can I be of service to you without feeling entitled to your gratitude? Answers?: Greed for money, hunger for attention I hunger to be admired To be the object of your gratitude…
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75. Trying to Tidy a Mess I Did Not Make
I used to say that anger didn’t exist in me — I thought I was too good for anger; that it was an emotion reserved for those less evolved than myself and that it was a waste of time I have humbled myself or I myself have been humbled since then I have embarked on a journey into my anger…
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74. Trying to Make Eye Contact at Twenty-Five
Zimbabwe operates on the US dollar but without any coins — this morning, as I strolled across town in a Saturday tardiness, I struggled through my hangover to calculate how much a stop at the seven to eleven convenience store might cost me; here, when I want to buy a plastic bottle of water for 30 cents, I either pay…
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73. Trying to Forget the Sun at Twenty-Five
And I just want the whole world to knowOr just someone to knowI want to tell someone What you told meAbout how you yesterdaySaw me beaming in some waySome new waySome way you’ve never seen me shine And maybe it’s the fullness of the sunOr the moon’s humble natureOr how the two chase one anotherFor who knows how longBefore they…
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72. Trying to Give Meaning to Twenty-Five
As I grow older Less precious and less sensitive is perhaps an okay way I release my clinging to the sensitivity that served me years previous It is time to trust my discernment To trust that honesty and unkindness are different That I value one more than the other To trust the heart that beats in me We do the…
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71. Trying to Write at Almost Twenty-Five
I met a man who calls himself Matteo. I met him in the mountains and he went on and on within various topics and his most inspired, to me, became his brazen and enthusiastic claim that not all things are meant for all people that some huts should stay huts, that some huts should stay not four-star accommodations with cable…
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70. Weeks Seven and Eight
All I can see is blessings — like I am wearing blinders to whatever it was that afflicted me before — I felt the fears yesterday — fears of failure and of being held accountable but I think the point is less the fear and more the feeling the fact that I could actually feel the fears. Because fear when…
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69. Weeks Five and Six
Today had already turned tomorrow, only just, and I was trying to listen to you, an old friend, while I ate room-temperature beef with chimichurri, the fatty pieces were all that was left, and then cantaloupe from a plastic container and then pretzels infused with peanut butter or peanut butter enveloped in pretzel, depending on how you see it, from…
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68. Weeks Three and Four
Focus: Release and I forget what else Monday I went without caffeine and Tuesday I tried the heart formula Cacao, I don’t need a plan; I need a spark. Coffee has loosened its grip on me — I tried matcha at an expensive café in Venice. And I’m just not convinced… My therapist friend told me the medicine is like…
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Trying To at Twenty-Five: The Blog 