Writing workshop.

Life is moving at an alarming pace. Many, if not most, days it's hard to find 20 minutes to focus on myself. To nurture those aspects that make me feel like my best self. I'm continuing to work to try and find more ways (more on this later)...but one of these ways was a writing workshop I took a few weeks back.

Hosted by an incredibly open and authentic gal, we gathered one Thursday night to explore, to write, and to open ourselves. In Dani's own words:

A room full of strangers willing to sit down, be present, and open up. We breathed together, we wrote, we created, and we shared. Most importantly, we all showed up and gave it what we had. Doing something for ourselves with no real expectation of tangible results, in the middle of the week, isn’t always easy.

One of my favorite prompts she had us do was making lists, randomly picking one thing from each list, and then connecting the dots between these seemingly unassociated items, to weave it into a little story or essay.

The list was:

1. What is one statement you wish you could hear? (This could be from the universe, your boss, your partner, your friend, a parent, whatever!)
2. What are some of the biggest life events you’ve had? (Think about things like having a baby, that big break up, when your parents got divorced, your wedding day, and anything else in between.)
3. Where are some of your favorite places in the world?
4. List some smells that really stand out in your memory – good or bad.
5. What are some places or situations that you dread being in?

My picks:
     1. You are enough.
     2. Meeting Nick
     3. Family dog pile
     4. My girls' morning breath
     5. Traffic

The exercise was rather quick and timed which was freeing to me because we didn't really have to worry about how long we'd been writing for, and rather just focus on the task at hand. The result was a little tidbit I kinda loved:

My stomach hurts from the laughter. The silliness of it all.
I catch his eye and we pause for a moment...taking it all in together. It seems like just yesterday we were 20 something's at that bar, meeting for the first real time, him buying me that vodka tonic.
And yet here we are.
All those years later with two little bodies jumping and dog piling into bed with us. Our arms and legs are entwined, and when they laugh...I laugh. And the more I laugh the more he laughs. And Max insists, of course, on being in the middle of it all.
I smell their sweet morning breath- a smell I think perhaps only a mother can truly appreciate. But to me, it's the smell of home.
Of my girls.
Of cozy.
I breathe them in over and over and over.
And I hold his gaze just a bit longer.
Because this moment is so very fleeting, but right now we are here. Together. Present and aware of the beauty.
These are those days.

Max licks my face, I get a sucker punch to my gut from a flailing 3 year old elbow, our connection breaks, and I know the moment has passed.

I know soon I will be racing out the door, coffee in hand, only to fight this fucking traffic.
And I will remember just hours before the sweetness of that time.

Here's to more of this.
(and sorry for the cursing. But there really is no other way to describe the traffic here)