Poem A Day: Week 2

Lots of feelings this week on and off the page. I got a little worn out on poetry writing but I’m also halfway through! Thanks again to @amykaypoetry for providing the prompts. And if you aren’t following me on Instagram, you’re missing some of my content! Find me @michelledwhipple 🙂 Day 8: Mildly Interesting As…

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Poem A Day: Week 1

April is National Poetry Month and I’ve been writing a pome a day for the #amykaypoemaday challenge. It’s been really fun! Here’s what I’ve got from week one. If you feel inspired, follow @amykaypoetry on Instagram and you can see the prompts every day. This challenge is completely about participation points. You get points for…

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Be.

Rest in cool water.  Dance in flame.  Lick up morsels lobbed onto my plate.  I was born in ease,  In the universe, In myself. Hung the world round my neck, Its weight pulling nearer, nearer to the floor. Stop that.  Let it clatter on the floorboards. Skip into the mud forest. Find a shelf fungus,…

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Engage in small c creation

“We do seem to be living in a universe that is in a constant and unending state of creation. It’s never stopping. It’s never stopping here either. We are not witnessing that. We are PART of that. We come from that. We work into that.” Elizabeth Gilbert

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Curiosity—my new favorite modality for mental health

I was sitting on my mat in yoga last week at the beginning of a vinyasa class. The instructor was walking around the room getting the music and lights adjusted, and I thought, She and I are doing the same job.  I’m a psychiatric PA.  My main role is medication management, deciding which meds will…

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Be bad at ANYTHING

There’s an unspoken rule, once you reach real adulthood (I’m not talking age 18—I mean the time in life when you can really do you) that you should only do things you are good at. That rule is silly. And it sucks. Literally it sucks all the fun out of life.

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You can make anything!

Sometimes creativity feels like a crushing chore, but when I think about Ruby it feels more an attitude. An irrepressible impulse that played out in the bread she baked, the cows she milked, the clothing she sewed, the baskets she constructed, the beets she hoed, and the rocks she laid. Her mosaics matter enormously and not at all, in the same way that each life matters enormously and not at all.

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Day Five: Swimming in that soul river

I am up with the sun at 7am.  Cass and I have planned to snorkel the Captain Cook Monument today.  With optimism, we attach a couple of other potential plans on the back end of that so we rush around and load all the needed equipment, provisions and clothing into a laundry basket to haul…

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Day Four: I can’t help but laugh at my good fortune

It’s 2am.  My body feels exfoliated from the elements, slightly tight from exertion.  I’m sitting outside on the deck of my next AirBnB in Kona.  It’s quiet, nestled into the city surrounded by apartments and houses, except for the gentle white noise of the AC.  I got about four hours of sleep before I became…

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