how to live (how to keep living)
a guide from here to there
Two announcements (come hang out with me!):
—>February writing workshop is live. Next month’s theme is Abundance vs. Scarcity. I teach these workshops based on the Amherst Writer’s Method, which means there is no critical feedback - it’s a very encouraging, supportive, and generative approach and I promise it’s wonderful no matter how much writing experience you have. There’s a sliding scale, but if dollars are tight just say the word and I got you. Next workshop is Sunday, 2/28 from 10am-12pm PST.
Register here.
—>Register for The Sober from Bullshit ⭐️ Recovery Club. Y'all, I am FEELING myself. I figured out how to make Recovery Club a recurring event in eventbrite so you can register for now through the end of the year. That's the first part. The second is that I'm adding an additional meetup the first Wednesday of every month. Wednesdays will be devoted to STORYTELLING, and I've already got a super special volunteer ready to go for February (one week from tomorrow).
Sign up! Let's hang out even more.
Hope to see you all the time everywhere at everything.
Sunday was a good day. I led a writing workshop where I got to laugh and cry with a group of talented writers, I took a tiny nap, and then I got to hang out with one of my mentors, who is one of the best people I know. His name is Chris, and it was in his living room, attending weekly workshops, where I returned to writing, which is to say, where I returned to myself.
I met Chris six years ago after a big-life-shakeup: I had been the only one at the bedside of my abuelo at the moment of his death, which also happened to be my 31st birthday. This was a profound moment. I was very close with my grandfather and when he left, and I got to witness him leaving, I took stock of my life. I asked myself “What the fuck am I doing?” I was low-grade miserable, working at jobs that I told myself were pragmatic but just left me feeling like I was missing out on something more. Life felt like a constant, pushing-a-rock-up-a-neverending-hill grind. Showing up to write with Chris and his community of Laguna Writers, fumbling my way through prompts, getting up the confidence to read aloud and be seen in a way I was aching to be seen was another profound moment. After years of running from life, going back to writing was a first step back toward myself.
A couple of years later, I quit boozing. Between centering creativity as the nexus around which all the other life stuff spins, and being with a daily practice of sobriety, who I am now is unrecognizable to who I was six years ago. Though I know that I am the one responsible for changing my life, it’s also true that I’m not sure I would have been able to do so if I hadn’t met Chris.
Anyway.
Sitting together on Sunday, Chris and I started talking about how good we’ve gotten at this. How, at this point, almost a year in, we know how to pandemic. We’ve adapted. We’ve developed skills to combat loneliness, fear, isolation, uncertainty, anxiety. We know how to protect ourselves and others. We might even start dating again (omg).
With all external horizons shut down, we’ve been forced to tend to our inner landscapes. We’re on our way. I feel a thrill every time I hear of someone getting vaccinated. There’s an end to this.
The below is something that came out of one of my recent writing workshops. I forget what the prompt was, but it inspired a list of “how to keep going.”
(The original had exclamation points after every line. I toned it down some but had to leave a few in - forgive me, I was feeling playful ☺️)
Eat food you love, make food with love;
Check in on your friends, don’t skip even one week;
Write letters. Record your voice and send it;
Take naps;
Hold lanterns for people, help carry people across the river;
Stand up for people;
Be kind;
Don’t suffer fools!
Pizza;
SEX.
Write. Every day;
Get a pet if you don’t have one already;
Get off social media;
Watch birds in their nests;
Scan the hillsides for coyotes;
Make the delivery men and women giggle;
Wave at old people. Wave at children. Wave at all the hot people and the ugly people. everyone almost always waves back;
Don’t compromise on any of the important parts;
Get physically stronger and mentally unfuckwithable;
FUCK the canon; read whatever you want;
Just don’t read the comments;
VOTE;
Coconut milk and maple syrup in your rainy day chai;
Invite your friends to things even if for now it’s only Zoom things;
Be creative with people, not only by yourself;
Look out the window! Look at the view;
Remember that at any other point in history you would have been way worse off;
Make peace with your dad;
Propagate plants!
Listen to music!
Meal prep even though it’s fucking boring!
Donate all the money you possibly can; accept more help than you are comfortable receiving;
Forgive yourself;
Say “yes” unless it’s asking you to jeopardize any part of yourself (we’ve been through this before);
Take another nap.
Slow Motion Sober is a newsletter and community for creative types who are sober or curious about sobriety, and all the life-y intersections along the way. It's written by me, Dani, a writer, facilitator and sobriety advocate in San Francisco, CA.
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Such a good list!