“and the world steps in” by Sasha on the Jane bus


Saturday April 25, 2014
1:24pm
5 minutes
Revelation Must be Terrible
David Whyte


The smell of the rosemary is the same. The smell of the cedar is the same, a little damper, a little more fragrant. I’m more afraid of darkness, but that’s just because there’s less of it. I’m tired, but I know it’s because I’ve been eating too much chocolate and bread and some might say I’m allergic to both but I love them so I just keep trucking. My favourite blanket is dotted with marks of it’s history, and it’s rarely around my shoulders or gripped tightly in my clenched fist. It sits at the foot of my bed and only gets pulled up on the coldest nights. I’m no longer worried about grey hair at my temples, or bits of celery and broccoli clogging the drain of the kitchen sink. I’m no longer fighting for the last word.

“No, I promise” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday, March 27, 2013
10:58am
5 minutes
Wild Mind
Natalie Goldberg


When you and I went for that walk, in the ravine, in the October blush, I secretly hoped that we would get lost. If we got lost, we’d get to spend more time together. We would have to huddle close together for warmth. You’d have to share your Gatorade, your pocket knife. We’d forage for wild leeks, and funguses. We’d build a fort out of a blanket that we’d find, a red and blue and white blanket, like the French flag… You’d get a kick out of that. “You are the grizzliest man I have ever met,” I would say, curled into you, under the blanket, a small bonfire burning before us. You’d scoff a bit. “No, I promise,” I’d say, and you’d believe me the second time. It’s something you learned from your mother. Refuse first. Accept second (maybe third). I knew this about you not because you told me. Because I took the time to learn it, because I listened to your deep breaths and your long eyelashes, because I understood the scar on on your cheek.