This is me just after I’ve woken up, completely unassembled. It’s me before a shower or a workout, me before I know what comes next, before I get all smart and strategic, before I pluck my unruly eyebrows or go after those persnickety chin hairs. Me before I examine my aging skin and do the math on how far till 60 and who will love me then? This is me, face unwashed, hair untouched, same pajamas I’ve been wearing for days. Me before I start sizing up my body and falling into the hallucination that there’s a problem that I need to fix – something about my legs or my ass – if only I could remember.

This is me starting the day with nothing except a hope that I’ll make something beautiful out of nothing, that I can conjure magic from scraps, a snip of a dream and a cup of coffee. Me remembering that I’ve got this if I can just relax. This is me scrappy and relaxed.

It’s me before I start worrying about whether I’ve taken on too much, whether I should have said yes to the racquetball league on Tuesday nights because I haven’t played in a long time and I’m such a competitive little motherfucker. The thought of losing stresses me out.

This is me before I start thinking about losing.

Me before I remember the workshops I need to sell and the pressure that come with that, or the classes I’ll run and whether I’ll fill all the seats. It’s me before jumping back into the blog post that isn’t writing itself. Me before I remember my out of the box relationship with the man in San Diego, and how I tend to complicate my love life in the most luscious ways, how I always have. How my friends smile and shake their heads and want to hear more. How lately I’ve been thinking about that game musical chairs – the one we played as kids – and worry that if I keep playing out of the box with love whether I’ll be left without a chair; a lone lady standing.

This is me before I start taking everything too seriously. Before I forget that “It’s a playground, not a prison,” a life changing quote that came through my sister, Maya Stein, and from her brilliant coach at the time, Molly McCormick.

This is me in the wild, before I get all civilized, plucked and buttoned up – me before I put a sexy spin on things, before I come up with all the sassy answers, before I try and dazzle you with my smarts and my verve – all of which make me feel more presentable, but can have the effect of pushing people away – which isn’t what I want. This is me before I get scared and think I need to import a better person to the party in order to be loved. This is me before I forget that I’m utterly lovable as I am – in pajamas and messy hair and coffee breath.

This is me before I forget that we have but a wee short time here before poof, we’re gone.

Would you like to jump into a self paced writing practice in the comforts of your own home? 27 Wilder Days is a short video sent to your inbox everyday for 27 days where I talk you through the writing practice, give you a groovy poem and a jump off line. It’s easy. It’ll take all of 25 minutes of your day and wa-la, baby, you’re writing.