doing all the things
how do I get there from here?
remember to breathe
I found it when I was rummaging around in a pile of unsorted stuff, looking for things I wanted to pack, and posted the picture to Facebook. One of my friends described it as a love note from my past self. It’s my handwriting, but I don’t remember writing it.
The last few days have been chaotic and in the morning I leave for Chicago again, for January classes. I’m torn between wanting to see people I haven’t seen since July or longer, and knowing that many of the people I would dearly like to be with will not be there, for whatever reasons. It’s how low-residency works: we are never all in the same place at the same time.
So I offer you the above scrap of minor wisdom, from someone I used to be, while I am scurrying around packing last-minute things and fretting about money and time and wanting to be in two or more places at once.
How do I get there from here? Remember to breathe.