emotions

A thousand choices

Transform  FEAR  into —

curiosity, love, kindness, humor, hope, joy, knowledge, focus, laughter, awareness, wonder, willpower, wings, experience, faith, fervor, challenge, gratitude, encouragement, enlightenment, goodwill, action, learning, beginnings, opportunity, aim, determination, adventure, character, smiles, hard work, independence, letting go, peace, patience, perspective, calmness, confidence, effort, insight, energy, light, movement, living, overcoming, mindfulness, healing, grace, generosity, acceptance, reflection, remedies, truth-seeking, self-reliance, desire, fight, fortitude, freedom, intention, lessons, journeys, poise, positivity, art, poetry, singing, dancing, words, wisdom, wellness, trust, respect, compassion, affirmation, friendship, fun, fresh starts, stepping stones, goals, dreams, drive, duty, empathy, grit, cheer, excitement, apologies, forgiveness, plans, prayers, purpose, life, questions, answers, coping, daring, helping, morale, moxie, nerve, heart, guts, resolve, self-discipline, spirit, tenacity, understanding, research, enthusiasm, valor, caution, courage, boldness, ability, zeal, readiness, information, meditation, mettle, options, decisions, protest, change, education, volition, carpe diem, honesty, introspection, usefulness, appreciation, blessings, delight, dignity, hugs, deep breathing, doing, vantage, U-turns, exploration, growth, invitations, value, virtue, venture

—Terri Guillemets

Half-breaths

Grieving is being
      at the bottom
      of quicksand
      trying to claw
      my way up —
because I need to breathe

When you died, my
      breath left with you
      my lungs, my life —
filled with half-breaths

I’m thankful for your life
is all that gets me through

—Terri Guillemets

Ten thousand fathoms deep

“You peer into my life to find a lingering past, but I tell you it was sunk ten thousand fathoms deep and weighted down with my dead self. You look into my breast to find that old, old open wound, but I tell you I seared it with my hot tears and only the cicatrix is there.”

—Muriel Strode (1875–1964), My Little Book of Prayer, 1904

Lonesome animals

“A writer out of loneliness is trying to communicate like a distant star sending signals. He isn’t telling or teaching or ordering. Rather he seeks to establish a relationship of meaning, of feeling, of observing. We are lonesome animals. We spend all life trying to be less lonesome. One of our ancient methods is to tell a story begging the listener to say — and to feel — ‘Yes, that’s the way it is, or at least that’s the way I feel it. You’re not as alone as you thought.’”

—John Steinbeck, 1956