We recently had another family over for dinner when my three-year-old decided to pass around her latest “art project” – a piece of construction paper that was supposed to resemble a fruit roll-up.
One by one, our guests put down their forks and politely examined her art, praised it, even pretended to eat it.
Why is it so wet? I asked when it was my turn.
I dipped it in the toilet, she whispered.
I probably should have leapt right into action, hauled our industrial-sized tank of hand sanitizer up from the basement.
But I just sat there, toilet water dripping from my hands, the writer-in-me already imagining what a great story this was going to make.
Writing Makes Us More Mindful
When Sumitha invited me to write a guest post for this site, I was immediately filled with existential angst. I’ve always found the articles on this blog to be enormously helpful, but poets aren’t exactly known for offering highly practical or actionable advice.