Is it enough to take these notes? To be a collector of moments? To be someone who notices the smallest things and who writes them down? Can the bits and pieces of this life; the way he reached for my hand, the text from the sick child, the banjo sitting in the corner of my room wishing to be played be enough?
Raised to be special, raised to be important, raised to do more. Is it enough to be someone who picks fallen camellias from the brick path, treasuring the ones that have lost their pink and have gone brown?
Is it enough to walk the forest path with an ex-husband who stops you and says, “Listen to the trees,” and for that moment, eyes closed, the sound of the eucalyptus whispering above you is all you hear.
Is it alright to make a nest in my bed three mornings this week, because I needed to work and write from a quiet place of pillows and blankets, the cat sleeping between my legs. And because the world can feel rough, but working in a nightgown and an old sweater, hair unbrushed, face unwashed can soften the blow.
And can I sit with the thought I had that you can be disappointed and sad because you didn’t get what you wanted, and it’s also no one’s fault.
And because we have such a wee time here, I try to keep remembering that what seems so painful in the moment won’t always feel this way. And because Andrea Gibson, the poet, asked us to consider, what if every single person you meet has at one time or another googled the question, “how to stop crying? ”
And what if every time you ran into someone, you remembered that?
Would that help you feel less alone, and a little more gentle with yourself?
What if I were to tell you that when you take sex off the table, there’s an unbridled landscape called kissing that goes on for miles and miles, taking you into places you’d never have visited if you were hell bent on getting someplace else.
Is it news worthy to report that it’s me and a bunch of grizzled old men at the gym every morning, though today there was an older woman, and I noticed the heaviness around her middle, and the loose skin around her neck, and how she went right up to Ed on the treadmill and spanked him on the arm, giving him a little grin.
And yes, I reflected on my own aging body as I watched her, though it was her little grin that I am left with.
And what if I told you that I know a man who cannot speak or move because of a stroke, and who has been laying in a hospital bed in my town for 8 long years. And what if I told you that his partner, who visited him everyday for all those years, died last year, and now he lays alone. Is it enough that every time I pass the hospital I say his name aloud?
And when I heard the news that David Crosby had died, I turned on the version of For Free, which he recorded with Sarah Jarosz, and which I hope you listen to because music is everything and that’s what he left us with.
What would you say if I told you that there is a small girl living inside of me, who hides under the stairs of my heart, and who even after all these years, is the softest part of me? And that at 62, she has begun crawling out of her cave to find me.
And what of the cat who tucks himself behind me as we sit on the bench at the vet, because he’s scared, and how I can feel him breathing through my back, and the way we began breathing together, because I am an animal too.
Is that worth noting? That I met my cat on a bench and we settled each other down. Is that enough?
Listen to Laure read the piece …
Yes. More than.
And isn’t it these things, these little things that we question the enoughness of, these things that do make this living here now enough. Thank you for this. What a great jump off line – is it enough!!
yes. It is enough. thank you for brightening my morning, and reminding me of what really matters.
All these words meet me today.
Touched deeply by all this stuff that is clearly enough in some cases, more than enough. I surrender.
Yes and thank you, thank you.
It surely is, if we can let it be….? Asking for a friend.
Wonderful words to begin my day. Thank you.
beautiful and heart-felt.
So enjoyed reading this and this visuals that it inspired in me, wanted more….
Brought a tear to my eye… Thank you.
Thank you so much, Laurie! A beautiful way to begin the beginning of a week!
This touched me deeply and so resonated with me.
Invaluable reminders of the daily gems & treasures. Thank you.
Your writing is so beautiful and poignant.
Is it worthy to note the genius of this writing, the mastery of one’s spirit to carry me into the essence of her experience and to invite me into my own?
Ohhh! Beautiful 🩷
I love you and that girl under the stairs and every detail you write down. ❤️
Thank you Laurie. Your writing reminds me to notice the details in the world and in my own life, which slows me down, which is always a good thing ☺️
Gorgeous, Laurie. Love it and love you.
Vital
Yes yes yes.
the softest part of me? And that at 62, she has begun crawling out of her cave to find me.
Welcome to all the parts Laurie.
XO
It’s amazing to me, having never met in person, the deep well of love I feel for you and for all of us, whenever I read your writing. Every single time.
Thank you for sharing your words with us.
Laurie, your written words picked me up and carried me away… Grabbed me and won’t let me go for quite some time I’m sure… Just beautiful
Beautiful piece. I felt invited to open me heart even wider. Thank you.
It feels like I just had a play date with your 62 year old little girl and my 79 year old, we have stopped crawling and our now toddling. Progress
“is it enough that every time I pass the hospital I say his name aloud”
I could sit with that line for a stretch.
What would you say if I told you that there is a small girl living inside of me, who hides under the stairs of my heart, and who even after all these years, is the softest part of me? And that at 62, she has begun crawling out of her cave to find me.
Perfection!
Love the flow and ease and heartbreak and beauty and vulnerability of all of this. Thank you so much for sharing.
What a beautiful, moving piece. Thank you.
Yes!
And I breath in rhythm with my dog every night in bed and feel whole.
Thank you!
what beautiful nuts and berries you have gathered! Thank you for sharing!
Thank you again Laurie. For you and putting words to feelings that are there in everyone. I am lingering on the crying…
“Raised to be special, raised to be important, raised to do more.” An endless yes to your antidote to this, which shimmered off the page and surrounded me with the warmth of a new way and its unexplored possibilities. I adored this piece! ❤️
Thanks, Laurie! A good reminder today that yes, it is enough. I needed that…
It is more than enough.
I could read this over and over and know that, without question, these little moments of noticing and being, of compassion and oneness are everything.
🙏☮️❤️
Such a gentle and powerful piece. And a reminder of a small world – I’m new here, but Andrea Gibson, Sarah Jarosz, David Crosby are all firmly in my list of “this make it enough”.
Gorgeous. Browning camellias. In bed. Meow. Love this.
So beautiful and real, Laurie. I could see, and feel this journey. Thank you for sharing it with us. Very touching and inspirational. I’ve learned a lot from you already.
Warm regards.
You made me remember the miles and miles …
Thank you for the song, Laurie! I went straight to For Free after reading this piece. Hadn’t heard this version and didn’t know Sarah Jarosz. What a gift thank you! I can’t stop listening!
Yes, yes, and thank you for this gift. Still thinking about it!
Thank you so much for sharing this!!! So poetic and so human. I can hardly read your texts without tears in my eyes. And I love being touched by your writing. This is so inspiring for me. You always bring me back to what writing really is to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you! (Can’t thank you enough)
Gorgeous writing!
Teary-eyes and a warm & full heart, I thank you for this dance of words.