Dog Stories: Dino and Roy, Pack Brothers
I learn from our pack every day. Take Dino and Roy. They fight, play, compete, and sometimes tell on each other like brothers. It’s taken a while for them to get to this point in their relationship.
Up until about six months ago, Dino was the top dog in our home. Then came Roy, bigger, younger, and full of three-legged attitude. As Roy learned to trust and become part of the pack, Dino was figuring out his new role in the pack. It hasn’t always been easy. At times Roy wants to play more aggressively than Dino wants to at his age. The Dino of a few years ago would have given Roy a run for his money.
Then there’s Dino’s favorite thing to do, bark at the window at deer, the neighbors, or just about anything. It’s one of the things Susan and I like least about Dino. So Roy, who just like a younger brother is always trying to please us and show up his elder, has taken to firmly correcting Dino when he goes on one of his barking binges. The upshot, Dino is learning to bark less at the window, not thanks to us, though we’ve sure tried, but thanks to Roy.
So Dino and Roy bicker and compete, but they’re also learning to co-exist and even enjoy each other’s company at times. Just this morning, I caught them sharing a toy. Yes, I learn so much from our pack, like how to adapt and accept.
There’s a lot more to Roy’s story, some of which I’ve shared. And there’s much more to Dino’s story, too. And I look forward to sharing that in upcoming installments of Dog Stories.
Dino and Roy, they fight, play, compete, and stick up for each other just like brothers. (Mike Barzacchini Photo)
Dino and Roy continually evolving the pack rules. (Mike Barzacchini Photo)
Who's Your Sounding Board?
Who’s your sounding board? Who’s that person in your life who will listen without judgment to even your craziest ideas? Who won’t judge? Who offers an objective unbiased perspective?
If we’re fortunate, we have at least one of those people in our lives. If we’re truly blessed, we may have more than one. Our first sounding board may have been a parent or an older family member. For many years, my best sounding board was my dad. He continued to listen and give wise counsel right up almost until the day he died.
In fact, a few weeks before Dad passed, I stopped to see him on my way to interview for a job in another state. I wasn’t sure about it. On the surface, it seemed like a good opportunity, but I had reservations or was I just scared of change. Dad listened as I outlined the position and caught him up on the hiring process so far. After I finished he was quiet for a moment, then with his warm, gentle voice, he said that it sounded interesting, but also risky, and he added, “Remember, you already have a really good job.”
Dad was right. There was nothing in the new opportunity that I didn’t have more of where I already was. Restlessness was not a good reason to change my entire life. And in this case, the opportunity I passed up soured quickly as the head of the company, the CEO who I would have been working for left just weeks after I turned down the offer. The firm reorganized due to financial challenges and there’s a chance my new job, had I taken it, might not have lasted a year. Ninety-four years old and my dad was still providing clarity as my sounding board.
Along with Dad, I’m fortunate to have had many sounding boards in my life — my spouse, family members, friends, teachers, and professional colleagues. I’m thankful for their patience and wisdom as they’ve listened to my crazy ideas over the years.
In turn, I’ve tried to serve as an open and available sounding board for others. Being present and generous with my time and attention is one of the greatest gifts I can give. And we all need someone who will listen to our crazy ideas.
Photo by Rúben Marques on Unsplash
Why I Write #NotLeftUnsaid Letters
Who needs to hear from you today? An old friend or distant family member who’s fallen out of touch? A former teacher, boss, coworker, or mentor who’s had a positive impact on your life?
Don’t underestimate the value of an old-fashioned ink-on-paper letter to make this connection and help you bridge time and distance.
Years ago, I started a practice of writing what I call “not-left-unsaid” letters to family members and friends. I started with my parents. I was born later in their lives. As a child, I was conscious of this. I tried to never miss an opportunity to connect with them.
When I moved away and married, connecting with my parents often took the form of letters, short notes, poems, and sketches. Did I call home, too? Of course, but there was something more personal for me in putting my thoughts and feelings on paper. Toward the end of her life, I learned my mom kept many of the letters I’d written her by an end table near where she sat in the living room. She’d reread them throughout the day.
Over the years, I’ve expanded my practice. I’ve written to friends, former teachers, colleagues, and family members. For every person I write, I think of dozens more I want to reach and I keep an active list of who’s next on my not-left-unsaid letter list.
I won’t kid you. Depending on what’s going on in my life, this practice has sometimes been a challenge. Still, I’ve always found a way to return to write and send the next letter.
People who have received one of my letters often express surprise and appreciation. Sometimes, I don’t hear anything at all. That’s OK. To be honest, the practice of writing and sending these letters is its own reward.
Writing my “not left unsaid” letters helps me slow down, focus, and celebrate. I often include a specific memory, something I experienced with or recall about the person I’m writing. I’ll also express appreciation for their presence and influence in my life. It’s like a form of memoir and gratitude practice, one letter at a time.
This journey may feel long, but it goes by fast. This one remarkable life and the people we meet along the way are all too important to leave anything we value left unsaid.
Photo by Mikaela Wiedenhoff on Unsplash
To See What I Could See
"Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair. Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy, was he?"
When I was a kid, I thought Fuzzy Wuzzy was also the bear who went over the mountain, as in...
"The bear went over the mountain to see what he could see. But all that he could see was the other side of the mountain, the other side of the mountain was all that he could see."
Turns out they were most likely different bears. Though, they could have been related.
Still, this ditty stuck with me for more than 50 years. When my son was young and he’d ask, "Where are we going, Dad?" I’d reply, "To see what we can see." And even today, when Susan and I are out for a weekend amble, the goal is “to see what we can see.” Isn’t that the promise of any adventure, large or small.
Then there are the more practical applications of the bear in our lives, like the saying: "Sometimes you get the bear. Sometimes the bear gets you."
My brother had his own version of this. During the summer I worked for him more than forty years ago, he’d make me up in the predawn hours with this rallying cry:
"Time to get the bear, Mikey."
Nothing like the promise of an early morning bear hunt to get you up and moving. Let’s put it this way, it beats the bear getting to me.
To this day, I keep a small sign on the inside of my office door frame and read it when I'm off to a meeting or preparing to take on a difficult assignment. It states, simply:
"Time to get the bear."
I hope you continue to "bear up" during these difficult days with grace, good humor, and a smile. I hope when you see what you can see, it is remarkable. And I hope you always get the bear.
Photo by Thomas Bonometti on Unsplash
The Power of Asking Questions
Project off track? Relationship stale? Discussion stalled? Try asking a question.
Not one that will result in a "yes," "no," "maybe," or "fine," response. But something a little more out there.
Something like, "Dad, if you were really a robot, would you tell me?"
There's nothing like the mind of a seven-year-old boy to spark authentic conversation.
In this instance, after I assured our son Jonathan, who was seven at the time, that I wasn't a mechanical creation from the planet Please Eat Your Carrots, we launched into a spirited dialogue about space ships, tree houses, and the odds on Mom being the real robot double agent in our home.
His simple eleven-word query jarred me from my usual post-workday numbness back into the real and now. And it inspires me to ask better questions of my own.
Open-ended questions? Sure. Most of us have been taught that we add to the quality of our conversation and our relationships if we ask, "What can I do to help you?" instead of simply, "Do you need any help?"
So open up the ends of your questions, but also don't be afraid to experiment with the form. Look at Jonathan's question. Closed-ended, but loaded with unexpected thoughts that led to some great parent-child chat.
And how about multiple-choice or true-false? They worked in high school geography class and can also be used to keep your work colleagues, significant other, or kids on their toes.
If you’re a parent, try this example on your child and see what happens: "When you get home from school tonight, I'll expect you to a) do the dishes, b) walk the dog, c) clean your room, d) all of the above?
Asking the right question may help you break that mental logjam that’s holding you back. And should all else fail, ask Jonathan's robot question. But you may want to prepare a follow up in case the answer is, "yes."
Photo by Rock'n Roll Monkey on Unsplash
How do you get out of the ditch?
I prepared and planned the night before. Up early the next morning, I set my course and get on the road. My path is clear. Then it happens.
Something runs out in front of me or I'm caught unexpectedly from behind. I veer off course. Maybe the shoulder is loose. I spin out and before I know it, I'm stuck in the ditch.
Plans change, often by forces out of our control. Every project manager, small business owner, or entrepreneur knows this. But we all deal with it differently.
How do you handle unforeseen changes? Do you let them derail you or do you look for the new opportunities that the unexpected may provide? I'd love to hear your strategies for dealing with what you weren't expecting. I'd like to learn how you get out of the ditch.
Photo by Henry Fraczek on Unsplash
My Practice Starts with an Open Heart
This is the practice I aspire to:
Open heart.
Open mind.
Open ears (for deep listening).
Loving-kindness in action.
Respect for self and others
Living fully in the moment with the goal of knowing and sharing my best self every day.
I believe this is the greatest way to honor ourselves, each other, and whatever higher power we believe in — by creating peace, love, and kindness in our daily lives.
By practicing the simple principles of learning, sharing what we learn, and growing through this sharing and learning we begin to raise the common denominator in our lives.
Photo by cyrus gomez on Unsplash
Embracing Pure Collaboration
Collaboration. Teamwork. Partnership. It's how things get done.
Typically, we team up to work toward a specific goal. But on rare occasions, pure collaboration takes hold. We enthusiastically combine our talents and energies, remaining open to where the partnership might take us.
Then something beautiful occurs. We identify new opportunities, blow by benchmarks and targets, and realize a heightened sense of accomplishment.
Too often we view teamwork as a linear process to complete a task. Individual talents and contributions may be stunted by the will of the team.
What if we started to look at collaboration as way to transform our projects and organizations. This pure collaboration is an opportunity to heighten, unleash and make best use of the unique skills, knowledge and experiences of every one on the team.
Is there risk? Sure. Could it get messy? Absolutely. Real innovation is risky and messy. And think of the reward: Engagement and outcomes increase as collaborators experience opportunities to learn, share and grow in an environment of pure collaboration, rather than just making sure they attend the next team meeting on time.
What are the potential benefits of pure collaboration in my organization? What would pure collaboration look like on my team?
Photo by Javier Allegue Barros on Unsplash
Dog Stories: What Julie Has Learned, What Julie Has Taught
Julie is our most recent foster dog. She’s only been with us about two weeks, still, we’ve learned so much about her and we’ve learned so much from her.
Within a few days, we discovered that Julie came to us with a few tricks. She sits, she shakes paws, she fetches, and she catches (especially treats). And although Julie is just a year old, she has a calm maturity about her. She’s pretty good on leash, and with training will only get better.
She’s not an active barker. In fact, for two days, we weren’t even sure she had a bark. She will let us know when someone’s approaching our door. And a couple of times she has barked at the doggy in the window, in other words, her reflection. What surprised me most about Julie’s bark is its deep resonance. For a dog her size, about 55 pounds, she packs a mighty bark.
So what has Julie taught me? Julie likes to exercise and as a young dog, she needs it. So, one thing she’s taught me is the joy of a winter walk, even on the coldest, snowiest days. And when we walk she’s taught me the value of silent observation. On our walks, Julie likes to stop and look deep into the woods. By following her gaze, I’ve found squirrels high in the trees and deer in the distance. Most often, I don’t see what Julie sees but watching her tilt her head and move one ear up, then the other is beautiful observation practice in itself.
Like all of our fosters, Julie has taught us the power of love and kindness to overcome fear and shyness and to build confidence. What we give our fosters and rescues through loving-kindness and patience returns to us tenfold in so many wonderful ways.
Julie’s eligible for adoption. Soon we will say our bittersweet goodbyes as she finds her loving forever home. Long after she’s gone through, her lessons and memories will remain.
Learn more about adopting Julie or one of the dozens of other wonderful dogs eligible for adoption at Hoof Woof Meow, the rescue we volunteer with.
Julie’s ears speak volumes. Susan Barzacchini photo.
Eleven Months Later: Doubling Down on Kindness and Empathy
As we entered the pandemic last March, I wrote this series of mantras and pinned them to my Twitter profile. That was almost 11 months ago. I had no idea the year we were in for, and of course, I have no idea what’s to come. What I can impact, as Carrie Newcomer’s song “Three Feet or So” reminds me, is what happens in my immediate world. I will fill my “three feet or so” with kindness, empathy, and intentional, positive action, with faith that it may radiate out into the larger world. So I’m reaffirming these mantras, this creed, for the next 11 months and longer, with hopes that you all stay safe and well.
Let us be strong.
Let us stay positive.
Let us take care of ourselves and each other.
Let us not give in to fear.
Let us not blame the "other."
It will be hard.
Some days harder than others.
But let us stick together.
And let us build something better on the other side.
Photo by Randalyn Hill on Unsplash
Did You See the Moon Tonight?
Did you see the moon tonight? I didn’t intend to go out to look at the moon, but often that’s when I find the best moon views. Or they find me. I was just taking the foster dog out for a walk and there it was, rising golden in the frozen sky. Glad the dog needed a walk and glad I was looking up.
On the Wing of a Bird
Often the best parts of my day never make it on a list.
You might say that today’s to-do list flew away on the wing of a bird. A broken wing at that.
Returning home from early errands, we spotted a small bird near our front-yard feeders that appeared injured. It would hop, but not fly. And while it would hop outside the gate between the slats, it would soon return, as if it knew things were safer inside the gate than out.
Smart bird. Our woodland neighborhood is filled with predators who would make a quick meal of a small, injured creature.
After watching the little bird for a short time to make sure it wasn’t just stunned, Susan gently picked it up and placed it in a cage lined with a blanket.
I then called Chicago Bird Collision Monitors and they put me in touch with Fox Valley Wildlife Center. We made an appointment to transport our bird into the Center staff’s safe hands. Our little patient will be assessed, treated, and hopefully rehabbed so it will fly another day.
What three things did I learn from today’s adventure?
Our patient was a Pine Siskin, a tiny songbird from the finch family.
Many smart and helpful volunteers like those at Chicago Bird Collision Monitors and Fox Valley Wildlife Center are working to help rescue and rehab animals seven days a week.
Often the best, most fulfilling parts of my day never make it on a list.
Our rescued Pine Siskin. Wired Lotus (aka Susan Barzacchini) photo.
You can donate to support the work of the Chicago Bird Collision Monitors and the Fox Valley Wildlife Center.
Here's to the Nudge and to the Nudgers
Do you remember when you received that well-timed career nudge? Here’s to the nudge and to the nudgers.
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
Do you remember when you received a well-timed nudge in your career? Do you recall the nudge and the nudger?
I remember many. I’ve been graced with generous allies, champions, and mentors over the years. Sometimes they’ve provided that gentle nudge. Sometimes it’s been a well-needed shove. It’s those out-of-the-blue, unexpected nudges that I remember most.
Like very early in my career I worked my first full-time job after college at a community newspaper. Long hours. Low pay. But the people and experiences were priceless. Most of all, it was the feeling of self-worth I received from this job. I was building momentum in my career for the first time.
Then, unexpectedly, the publisher announced we were closing. I’d be out of work in a matter of days. I was crushed and I really didn’t know what I’d do next.
Within a few hours of getting this news, I received a phone call at the paper from Brian. Brian heard we were closing from our ad rep. He told me that the rival paper was interviewing candidates for a sports editor’s position. He’d already called the managing editor on my behalf and urged her to talk to me. “You’re going to need to interview today,” he said. “They’re close to hiring someone else.”
I literally walked across the street to interview and I got the job. That sports editor’s position led me to two other jobs at the paper and eventually launched me to graduate school and on my long-term career path. It was a critical crossroads in my career and life.
So, who was my guardian angel, my timely nudger, Brian? A long-term mentor or friend? A former teacher? A college chum? None of the above. Brian worked for the tourism bureau in the neighboring town. I’d interviewed him a few weeks before about an upcoming festival. Our interaction may have lasted all of an hour. The story turned out well, but it wasn’t Pulizter-worthy, I guarantee you. Yet, something occurred in that brief interaction with Brian that made an impression, enough of an impression for him to actively advocate for me when I needed it most.
I never repaid Brian for his kindness beyond a “thank you.” I’m not sure how I could have repaid him. His nudge changed my life. Yet indirectly, I’ve tried to repay Brian by offering the same gentle nudges (yes, sometimes shoves) across the street to dozens of friends, colleagues, interns, former employees, and sometimes just people who made a really great impression on me. You know what, it feels great to be the nudger. Even better than getting the nudge.
My 11 Guiding Principles for 2021
My 11 Guiding Principles for 2021.
Congratulations. We made it through the first week of 2021. Or, at least I think we did. If last week is any indication, we will continue to be presented with heaping portions of opportunity and challenge throughout this year.
I shy from making resolutions or declarations at the beginning of a new year. Much can happen in a month or two that I could not have imagined on January 1. Those resolutions may become dated quickly by events that are out of my control. For example, what if one of my 2020 resolutions was to “travel more?”
Instead of resolutions, I tend to identify a set of words or principles to help guide me through the year, come what may. Often these are “carry-overs,” principles that I try to follow every day that I refresh or renew for the new year.
One resource I’ve used to help me identify my core principles has been Your One Word by Evan Carmichael. Carmichael guides readers toward identifying one word that will serve as a powerful, concise purpose statement for work and life. After reading the book, the word I came up with was “solutions.” This led to “only solutions,” one of my work-life mantras. A lot of what gives me joy at work and with my family and friends is solving and helping others solve problems.
At a higher ed marketing conference a few years ago, I attended a session that took attendees through a series of exercises and discussions to help us develop four words that describe our purpose. Then the presenters challenged us to make these four words the screensaver image on our smartphone. I did and it’s remained my screensaver since, a regular reminder of my four words: “Humor, mindfulness, kindness, and service.”
I know, where is the word “solutions?” I went back and forth between “solutions” and “service,” ultimately sticking with “service,” though I’ve been thinking lately that it may be time to refresh my four words and my screensaver.
This brings me to 2021. Do I stick with Carmichael’s “one word” approach? Do I refresh my four words? In some way, I may do both of these things to help keep me on course this year. But I felt like I needed something a little more substantial, a set of principles that work on a practical level as action statements to keep me on task each day and more long-term to make sure I’m moving with intention toward my bigger goals. A version of each one of these principles is something I’ve documented and practiced for years. Here they are revised and renewed for 2021:
Strive for good, better, best: Forward progress in everything I do.
Be at peace with myself.
Do work that generates joy.
Live simply: Uncluttered life. Uncluttered mind.
Embrace nature every day. Touch the earth.
Breathe. Stretch. Move.
Focus on the moment. Avoid the distraction of worry.
Learn something new every day.
Share what I learn.
Keep my sense of humor. Remember to laugh.
Practice kindness and empathy in service to others.
If I can keep these 11 principles in mind and action,, I’ll stay ready for whatever 2021 has in store.
What word, mantra, or set of principles will help guide you through this year?
My iPhone screensaver image.
I may get commissions for purchases made through links in this post.
Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash
Finding Your Comfortable Place
Finding your comfortable place.
Challenges behind us this past week. Many challenges ahead. It’s important to find our comfort when and where you can. Lucy sets a good example. I hope you find your comfortable place this weekend.
Photo by Susan aka @wiredlotus.
Finding My Magazine Oasis
Finding my magazine aisle oaisis.
Full disclosure: I was born before the Internet. Before smartphones. Before 5700 channels and nothing on. Yea, I’m a baby boomer. Though I like to think of myself as a “baby bloomer.” My motto, “grow, but never grow up.”
So before I doomscrolled Twitter, fell down Google search rabbit holes, or obsessed over Instagram, I surfed magazine stands. My favorite growing up was at the now-extinct Readmore Bookstore in Richmond, Indiana. If a magazine existed, Readmore carried it. I also spent a good deal of my 30s and 40s scouring magazine aisles of Books & Co. in Dayton, Ohio, Joseph-Beth Books in Dayton, Ohio, and Border’s, my favorite, now-defunct chain bookstore. To this day (or at least pre-pandemic) I seek out independent bookstores on my travels around the country and make their magazine aisles my first stop. Kramer’s Books in DC has been a favorites every time I’m in the nation’s capital.
So, it was with much joy and nostalgia that on a recent distanced and masked grocery shopping trip to Woodman’s Market in Carpentersville, Illinois, I discovered the store’s expansive magazine aisle. I’m not sure there are too many places these days where I could find the latest issues of Bass Player Magazine, Illinois Outdoors, CarToons, and the New Yorker, all in one place. And those are just a few of the hundreds of titles featured at Woodman’s. After 30 minutes of glorious browsing, I came away with the latest issue of Mojo Magazine featuring the White Stripes on the cover and the music issue of the Oxford American. I could have easily brought home a dozen other interesting titles.
Bookstores, magazine aisles, and magazines themselves may become extinct in my lifetime. At the very least, choices, locations, and access will continue to narrow. As someone who grew up enthralled and entertained by magazines, it makes me sad. I feel the loss. But until the day they’re gone, I’ll continue to seek out those few remaining vibrant magazine aisles. See you at Woodman’s.
Today, I Pause
I wish you peace, safety, and grace, and days filled with joy and the absence of hate.
One of my 2021 goals was to write something on this blog once a day. At least during January. You know, give it a month, and let’s see how it goes.
I even had a Wednesday plan. Midweek would be a good time to write about poetry. I’d share a poem I’m working on and write about a book of poetry or poet that I’m currently reading.
The disgraceful and violent events in our nation’s capital today have led me to a change of plans.
There’s a phrase that’s been spinning around in my head the past few weeks, “hate is the snake that eats its own tail.” I think that’s what we witnessed today.
I’m optimistic by nature. Although days like today challenge that nature. Still, I bend towards kindness, empathy, and compassion. I’d rather spend my days that way than eating my own tail.
So, I’m not writing about poetry today. And I’m not sharing a poem. But I am spending time tonight with Jim Harrrison’s After Ikkyu, a collection that I return to during dark and challenging times.
I wish you peace, safety, and grace, and days filled with joy and the absence of hate.
Remedies: Bird Watching
Happy National Bird Day! Birdwatching outside my home office window, one of my remedies.
Happy National Bird day. One of our best decisions of 2020 was creating a bird haven in our front yard with feeders, wildflowers, and a busy birdbath just outside my home office (formerly our dining room) window. A few minutes of bird watching throughout the day provides a great respite from a solid schedule of Zoom calls. To celebrate January 5, National Bird Day, here are a few images of our feathered friends from yesterday and today.
Don't Wait for the Perfect Hammer
Don’t wait for the perfect hammer. It’s the first Monday of the new year. Let’s grab the hammer at hand and swing.
How many bookshelves have I neglected to build while waiting for the perfect hammer?
It’s a trap I’ve fallen into throughout my life. I’ll finish the big project once I rearrange my office. I’ll start the new story once I find my favorite journal. I’ll begin my daily drawing routine once the new pencils I’ve ordered arrive.
At a higher ed seminar, I attended a decade ago on creating visual content, a very smart presenter was asked for her camera recommendation. She replied, holding up her smartphone, that the best camera was the one you have at hand. Keep in mind, this was in the era of the iPhone 4 or 5, long before today’s super HD smartphones. This advice has stuck with me, though I still struggle to follow it at times.
Waiting for those new pencils to arrive, searching for that lost notebook, rearranging the furniture in my home office, these are all tactics that keep me from doing the work. How will I ever build the bookshelf if I continually wait for the perfect hammer?
It’s the first Monday of the new year. Let’s grab the hammer at hand and swing.
Photo by Adam Sherez on Unsplash
Remedies: Drawing and Writing My Life
How a regular practice of drawing and writing has become one of my life’s remedies.
In August 2019, I took a class that changed my life. Lynda Barry’s daylong writing and drawing workshop Writing the Unthinkable opened me to the possibilities and benefits of the practice of daily drawing. Here are just three of those benefits:
Regular drawing improves my writing and idea generation by getting me to think and act visually.
This practice also gives me a new way to document my life and share it with others through “visual letters,” often accompanied by stories and poems.
Finally, my drawing practice helps me develop calm, focus, and balance. I find that drawing can be centering and meditative.
I kept up my practice into 2020, aided by Barry’s wonderful books Making Comics and Syllabus: Notes from an Accidental Professor, and Cartooning: Philosophy and Practice by Ivan Brunetti.
Then, midway through 2020, I discovered the Friday Comics Workshops held by The Believer magazine and Black Mountain Institute. These free classes were invaluable for both the instruction and communal experience they provided. You can still view the archived 2020 classes. I’m looking forward to the 2021 sessions that hopefully will begin soon.
Full disclosure: I’ve yet to develop the discipline and rhythm to draw every day, but I’m working on it. It helps that I’ve realized that the days I do draw, I’m more focused, creative, and productive. More simply put, when I draw, I have better days.
Notes:
I can say I was taught by a MacArthur fellow.
The Near-Sighted Monkey (Lynda Barry’s blog).
Writing the Unthinkable 2019 playlist (on Spotify). Lynda teaches us to write to music. Here’s a playlist full of inspiration.
Who is the artist known as “Slowbreak?” In Lynda Barry’s workshop, you choose an alias for yourself. I chose Slowbreak, because all those years ago when I played pickup basketball, I was never accused of perpetrating a fast break.
Each week, typically on Sunday, I share one of my remedies. What are my remedies? The people, places, practices, and things that improve my life and help get me through the day.
I may get commissions for purchases made through links in this post.
