Breathing Underwater

Today's one-word writing prompt was ' Legacy ,' submitted by my friend Amy Marie, whose legacy will be a wonderful trio of intelligent, caring humans who were loved without limits by their mother. When I read the word I pulled out of my prompt jar this evening, I fully expected to do a timed writing about the sort of legacy I mentioned above - something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past  ( Merriam-Webster ). But that's not where my pen took me.  It happens. So, have you ever heard of Swedish Death Cleaning ?  (Yeah, you didn't expect that, did you? I didn't either but here we are.) It's a pretty neat concept, really. Basically, once a person hits late middle age (or whenever they want, I guess), they begin ridding themselves of all the material possessions they've accumulated that they don't need anymore - so that no one else has to do it after they die (that's the 'death'

Today's writing prompt was the word ' Humanity ,' submitted by my lovely friend, Marylou Van de Klundert, who spreads kindness and beautiful humanity wherever she goes (and she goes everywhere!). I've been thinking a lot about the idea of  humanity lately (I suspect many people have), as it seems to me, given all the horrible things going on in the world and some of the vile people in charge of those events, that we've lost ours. Maybe not completely, but to a significant degree. I looked up the dictionary definition of humanity before I started my timed writing this evening (I often do this. Even though I know what the word means, the definition can give me a different perspective or idea). Of course, 'humanity' has two definitions, the first being "human beings; collective humankind." The second - the one I think of first - is "humanness, benevolence." Synonyms are compassion, kindness, mercy, brotherly love . Good stuff, ri

Today's blog post is inspired by the word 'Joy,' submitted by my friend Suzanne Vance (one of the most joyful people I've ever known).  I actually groaned when I pulled this word (randomly) from my prompt jar. I haven't been feeling terribly joyful lately. In fact, I've felt like I've been teetering on the edge of that black hole we call depression for a while. But my self-imposed rule (in order to train myself to write about whatever topic is thrown my way) forced me to work with the word I pulled. And as I promised I would, I sat down and wrote. When doing timed writings, the whole point is not to think about what you're putting down on paper. The goal is simply to write; to keep the pen moving and not stop for the duration. If you suddenly find yourself with nothing to say, you simply write, "I don't know what to say" a few times... and inevitably, something will appear. It might not be related to what you started with, but t

I keep thinking that I need to write more, but my motivation has been very sadly lacking. So, in an effort to give myself a kick in the pants and also come up with new material, I asked my friends on Facebook to provide one-word writing prompts. I explained that I would choose one (randomly) daily (or at least several times a week), do a timed-writing based on the word, then (hopefully) pull a nugget of something interesting  from that, and write a blog post. I also mentioned that while some of the posts might be good, it's entirely likely that many will be utter garbage. But that's what practice is for, right? Right.  Anyway, my peeps came up with nearly 300 one-word prompts (!). Ahem. This is the first post.  The prompt was Thunderstorms (submitted by Meredith Moomaw, with whom I waited out many thunderstorms during many summer swim seasons!). The timed writing resulted in a lot of words that had absolutely nothing to do with thunderstorms. But that's how

From the time I was pretty young, I was a glass half full  person. I could always see the bright side. For years, even though I suffered from depression, I refused that diagnosis, believing that if you could see the light at the end of the tunnel, you couldn't be depressed. I could always see the light. I always looked for the positives in crappy situations. The Silver Lining was what I wrapped myself up in every night. But on September 11, 2001, my glass cracked. And since that day, my half full has slowly seeped out of that crack, soaking the Silver Lining (which I've discovered was only meant to reflect, not absorb). I watched the towers fall that night eighteen years ago, with my two-year-old on my lap, while I read Winnie the Pooh to her. I cried along with the rest of the country. My heart and soul ached for those who lost their lives and for those left behind. I knew we would never be the same again. And then, in the aftermath, the country pulled together. Peop