I wonder how you are holding up in this new phase of the pandemic.
What do you need? What can I send through the ethers of the Internet to support you?
These are not rhetorical questions. I’m asking.
What do you need to hear? Where do you feel stuck?
As I may have written in a previous message, we’ve been sharing short snippets from our daily writing on Continuous Practice this year.
A sentence or two at the most.
I added it as an option, in part to keep things fresh. But also, because we have a guideline of not commenting, I wanted a way for us to communicate.
Every day, when I log into the group to post, I am met with the record of everyone’s wiring.
Every day, I witness humor, grace, and beauty in our
This Facebook feed is actually nourishing.
Sometimes I feel like I’m pushing the Continuous Practice Community here.
But the group is so sweet and special, I want you to be a part of it.
Here are a few things that make it so:
1) There is no agenda. Sure, having a daily practice will feed your writing and life in the most magical ways. But that’s not the point.
The point is to connect to yourself on the page, to a practice within a community, and contribute to the greater good by simply showing up and making effort.
2) You can come and go as you please. We have some foundational members who show up every day, but also writers who commit for awhile, fall away, and return again when they are ready.
The truth is that all the learning and value the value are in returning.
3) It’s quiet. Like I said, we have a no-comment practice. The only time we “talk” is for our weekly check-in and through the writing quotations I mentioned above.
4) I oversee the community free of charge. I occasionally let folks know about one of my other programs, but mostly I show up to practice and support the group.
If those factors don’t make the case for joining, maybe these snippets of writing, shared by and for group, will.
Let me know if they bring a smile of recognition to your face.
“We were supposed to have a hurricane today, but we didn’t.”
“Though I love my dependents, human and animal, I resent their interruptions.”
“I was born to be a hermit, to stay home, to spend time in the garden, at the sewing machine, with my notebooks and journals.”
“Now I am trying to show up for myself on the page.”
“I’ve been wondering what surrender looks like.”
“But I don’t want to open that door just yet. I don’t know why.”
“I feel like I’m in a place where I’m held together by scotch tape, memes, and too much coffee.”
Do you feel these? Nothing fancy, but straight from the unedited mind.