Winter 2023-2024

I woke up at 8:45 (rare) to the first inch of snow NYC has seen in some 60 days, or something. I put [redacted] on airplay to the TV. Those ambient sounds and his friendly big voice make the most earnest bits of me bubble up.

I thought so much yesterday about hurt. And over and over again I’ve come to the same conclusion: pain is just an unremarkable part of life. We don’t have to love it. Because I couldn’t figure out how to love the way it has hurt me or to love what loss can make room for. Or how the story you wrote yourself may have never been “that way“.

But my life right now overfloweth with sweet some things. While we hurt and while all varieties of evil still manifest, I have so much good. Who can I thank?

Thanks is a noise you make in the face of something terrible. Thanks is a hollering voice

Could you cry because you cannot believe you feel love?

Should we take inventory of all the things we have lost, too?

It’s been weighing on me – I see the initials of people I don’t claim anymore. I realize that I don’t experience as much indifference as I’d like to. Because it would be nice to hover above what could hurt you. And again, in trying to make meaning of what hurts I must zoom out: life hurts in all kinds of ways. Some is true evil and some is just silly luck.

And the silly luck kisses us sweetly, too.

“Loving what every second goes away” says Ross Gay.

Reflection makes this fleeting life feel vast.

When I look back, I immediately become eager to turn back to the front, enticed by the many some things I might see. Looking side-to-side is good, too.