Breena, this was the most beautiful thing I've read in some time. There's a excerpt from Pablo Neruda that popped in my mind at the conclusion of your e-mail:
"That time was like never, and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
we find everything waiting there."
May we all follow the sense of delusional wonder! Thanks for sharing all this. <3
Thank you, João! And thank you for this excerpt from Neruda. I feel like one of the greatest online/Substack gifts is sharing a piece of poetry in the comments. I'll carry this with me now. <3
I love how the you that left that voicenote uncovered what was still in you - the you who wrote this - all the awe, the wonder, the fear, the gratitude, the mortality. Everything that's in us all the time. ❤️ Thank you for sharing this, B! I felt like I was with you and the little boy in the backyard. Sun on our faces, in the hammock, alive. ❤️
I'm.... this is a gift to read and re-read. And I feel the importance of the tangibility art (and short video in particular) can give a moment. It's like being there in the scan room but as a being who doesn't see flesh or light, just images in order. Does this make sense? No! But what makes sense: I've thought of this video over and over for the past year.
This is my first time here and your words are beautiful!
It hit home for me in a lot of ways.
I’ve come across so many of my own writings from the hard times of realizing my mom's death was immanent… So many sprinklings of ways I express myself when I’m angry or scared or of course, inspired.
There was a line that talked about your fear of never feeling the sun again as you documented it on your voice note, and that cracked my heart a bit.
I just wrote a poem on my Substack about a week ago called "I wonder if Spring could've saved her" and it was about how I truly thought if my mom could've just made it to Spring... maybe that would've gave her the strength to fight and still be here with us.
She perished in the cold, short days of winter... A few days in the ICU (no sun or outside air or warmth on her skin), and before that, it was very difficult to find a window where she wasn't taking her vitamins or medication or when dad wasn't working so she could get out to the car before the sun left for the day around 4 or 5pm.
I wrote that poem after taking a walk outside with dad this Spring, and feeling slightly guilty about it cause mom couldn't experience it anymore.
She didn't get a chance to let it save her.
She clung to God. Became tunnel-versioned on Him. I believe that hindered her more than it helped, but who am I to say?
Goodness, sorry for the ramble!! Your writing pulled that from me!
And I have writing prompts to turn to, too?! Lovely!
Cierra, thank you so much for such a thoughtful response. "I wonder if Spring could've saved her" ((sigh)). What a visceral image and a deep yearning that I imagine resonates with many people who've lost someone. I'm so happy you're here and grateful we get to swap writing inspiration with each other now. <3
There's so many things your writing pulled out of me! How often I've also used creative self-expression during tough times (not cancer, but something smaller like my first heartbreak). It was a great reminder!
Damn, ain’t that the truth. I have been thinking about courage a lot lately, and I like the idea that some braver version of future me is signing that permission slip and passing it back through time like a note in class. And my only job is to know it’s basically none of my business to question it. Lol
I look at your travels, Dani and am CONSTANTLY reminded of bravery and courage. Of curiosity. And how it’s such a beautiful way to live. You’re signing your own permission slip all the dang time.
Sidenote: Rick Rubin's new book (audiobook bc it is a honest-to-god meditation) has been a solid companion for some of these thoughts. I’ll stroll around the park and let it sink in that we all reserve the right to be whoever we want in this world.
RR books has been this year's bible. I assume it will be next year's as well. I have it with me, and it serves as a devotional. It's so reassuring and freeing and comforting.
Thank you for your words. Sometimes we don't see our own courage. Do we normalize our own courage and only have goggles for other peoples? Could be.
Let's not question our permission slip. From here on out.
Breena, this was the most beautiful thing I've read in some time. There's a excerpt from Pablo Neruda that popped in my mind at the conclusion of your e-mail:
"That time was like never, and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
we find everything waiting there."
May we all follow the sense of delusional wonder! Thanks for sharing all this. <3
Thank you, João! And thank you for this excerpt from Neruda. I feel like one of the greatest online/Substack gifts is sharing a piece of poetry in the comments. I'll carry this with me now. <3
I love how the you that left that voicenote uncovered what was still in you - the you who wrote this - all the awe, the wonder, the fear, the gratitude, the mortality. Everything that's in us all the time. ❤️ Thank you for sharing this, B! I felt like I was with you and the little boy in the backyard. Sun on our faces, in the hammock, alive. ❤️
Thanks, Dani 💕 so glad you’re on Substack now!
What an inspirational gut punch. See, this is why I stay home and read on a Saturday night.
“Inspirational gut punch”... the highest compliment, thank you!
Also sure you may go broke, that’s always a possibility. But loveless?! Never.
I'm.... this is a gift to read and re-read. And I feel the importance of the tangibility art (and short video in particular) can give a moment. It's like being there in the scan room but as a being who doesn't see flesh or light, just images in order. Does this make sense? No! But what makes sense: I've thought of this video over and over for the past year.
This is my first time here and your words are beautiful!
It hit home for me in a lot of ways.
I’ve come across so many of my own writings from the hard times of realizing my mom's death was immanent… So many sprinklings of ways I express myself when I’m angry or scared or of course, inspired.
There was a line that talked about your fear of never feeling the sun again as you documented it on your voice note, and that cracked my heart a bit.
I just wrote a poem on my Substack about a week ago called "I wonder if Spring could've saved her" and it was about how I truly thought if my mom could've just made it to Spring... maybe that would've gave her the strength to fight and still be here with us.
She perished in the cold, short days of winter... A few days in the ICU (no sun or outside air or warmth on her skin), and before that, it was very difficult to find a window where she wasn't taking her vitamins or medication or when dad wasn't working so she could get out to the car before the sun left for the day around 4 or 5pm.
I wrote that poem after taking a walk outside with dad this Spring, and feeling slightly guilty about it cause mom couldn't experience it anymore.
She didn't get a chance to let it save her.
She clung to God. Became tunnel-versioned on Him. I believe that hindered her more than it helped, but who am I to say?
Goodness, sorry for the ramble!! Your writing pulled that from me!
And I have writing prompts to turn to, too?! Lovely!
Thank you again!
Cierra, thank you so much for such a thoughtful response. "I wonder if Spring could've saved her" ((sigh)). What a visceral image and a deep yearning that I imagine resonates with many people who've lost someone. I'm so happy you're here and grateful we get to swap writing inspiration with each other now. <3
Thank you, Breena, for writing period!
There's so many things your writing pulled out of me! How often I've also used creative self-expression during tough times (not cancer, but something smaller like my first heartbreak). It was a great reminder!
I'm glad to have found you!
What is one thing you are waiting on?
Permission is my best guess. To start things, to see things, to do things my own way despite the fear that I'll go broke or loveless in the process.
Damn, ain’t that the truth. I have been thinking about courage a lot lately, and I like the idea that some braver version of future me is signing that permission slip and passing it back through time like a note in class. And my only job is to know it’s basically none of my business to question it. Lol
I look at your travels, Dani and am CONSTANTLY reminded of bravery and courage. Of curiosity. And how it’s such a beautiful way to live. You’re signing your own permission slip all the dang time.
Sidenote: Rick Rubin's new book (audiobook bc it is a honest-to-god meditation) has been a solid companion for some of these thoughts. I’ll stroll around the park and let it sink in that we all reserve the right to be whoever we want in this world.
RR books has been this year's bible. I assume it will be next year's as well. I have it with me, and it serves as a devotional. It's so reassuring and freeing and comforting.
Thank you for your words. Sometimes we don't see our own courage. Do we normalize our own courage and only have goggles for other peoples? Could be.
Let's not question our permission slip. From here on out.