“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes… Including you.” — Anne Lamott
“I’m not impressed by efficiency. That’s the truth.
And just because it’s quick, it doesn’t mean that it is masterly.
When it comes to poetry, I don’t think speed has ever really been the goal.
I think sometimes it takes ages
to find the right words for that small piece of your soul.
We are slowly mining language, searching for a gem.
And besides, everything I love is a little bit lumpy.
In this life, the things I most adore
are all so fabulously flawed:
The green corduroy coat, for example,
that patiently waits for winter in my hall—
the one that used to keep my mom warm, and now does the same for me,
with padding peeking out of the cuffs
and pockets clinging on for dear life;
Or the accidental butt-dial left by my friends—
the voicemail where I can hear them chanting for ABBA,
demanding one more song;
Or the dinner that’s burnt at the edges;
Or the apology typed mid-cry;
Or the way my trousers hug my belly;
Or texting, “Sorry, I forgot to reply.”
I really like—I love, actually—living in a way, in a place,
where nothing lines up quite right.
I want more of it. I want all of it:
The muddled. The messy.
The bits AI might edit out.
I am always going to opt for the higgledy-piggledy heartbeat,
the world with its cardigan on backwards,
covered in fingerprints, thumb-smudged, and warm.
I want an awkward pause.
I will choose the unedited pulse of things every single time.
The beauty of the almost,
the nearly there,
the not quite.
The things that remind me I am not sparkly or shiny,
or even really getting it right.
But I am.
We all are.
Undoubtedly alive.” – Georgie Jones
To an unedited, non-curated, honest, messy, fun day.
Steeped in the silly, ordinary, delight.
Flavors rising, colors deepening, light brightening.
The beauty of the almost and unfolding.
Undoubtedly alive and so much more than well.
