My daughter had a seizure. My parents left Seattle. We went to Montana. We ran a race and leaned in to friendships we had missed so much. Our family needed that mountain air and those people and that exercise and that wide open space.
And there was a ton of music, too.
I was running when I first heard this song by LUMP (horrible name, btw, but I do love me some Laura Marling)…
This lyric:
“I heard a word that they paint mirrors on their face
And soon forget that they reflect but don’t create”
Oofta. Do I only reflect? Do I even create? Is what I create real? I know I love pop culture. And I find myself googling things like, “Is Jason Sudeikis nice?” It’s all fakeness. Are they all mirrors? Am I just a mirror? But then I’m ob-sessed with these Daniel Arnold photos of the after-party at the Met Ball. Timothée Chamalet, with cocktail in-hand… lounging on the stairs with his friends…
Every so often I find a glimpse of creating instead of reflecting in myself.
I recently did writing workshop through Molly Caro May‘s newsletter—I recommend doing anything with her, if you’re into writing. The prompt was to write to future generations and describe yourself as a season.
"I was a person of Spring. Always starting new growth… new adventure. Sometimes rainy, but sometimes bright and glorious. I was on to the next idea, on to the next part of life too quickly sometimes. There were many buds left on the branch. They never bloomed. I can picture some that I regret not tending to. I didn't care enough for them. I didn't prune around them. I didn't give them space. And so they never bloomed. I was Spring and I had many beautiful flowers in my time, but the prettiest of them all may have died on the vine, closed shut in a bud, while it poured rain the the chorus of thunder."
[closed shut in a bud.]
wull hay. 
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