How to begin again
OPTIONAL:
Always keep a huge Rice Krispy treat in your car’s second cup holder. This says, “I am alone, but living my dreams.”
Marvel. Be amazed at every good thing: the illogical tininess of a baby’s ear, the satisfying snap of a bell pepper, a perfectly-timed poem discovery, the messy privilege of being alive.
Don’t feel bad maintaining your designated side of a formerly shared bed. You have all kinds of options for how to use the other half, such as stacking mounds of fake money on which you have drawn Harriet Tubman.
Create a new playlist titled NEW LIFE, WHO DIS. Make sure no one ever, ever sees what’s on it. {It must be said, though: the song “Si, Paloma” makes every outing feel like a triumphant adventure, instead of the fourth Dunkin Donuts drive-through of the week.}
Find bold role models who live and serve well. One of mine is an energetic woman in her 60’s who now, after having to rebuild her life, compulsively volunteers and lives surrounded by sculptures of heads, bowls of found creature bones, and a garden where she has outsmarted the squirrels on behalf of birds.
Think in terms of storytelling, as Saint Brené Brown would have us do. You’re writing a new story, and whatever twists jumped out and bit you in the elbow before {and it’s life, so there are certainly more to come}, you can still choose the quality of adventure. Approach strangers at inappropriate times, toss your head excessively, and shriek, “WHAT A TALE I’M LIVING!” See what happens. Hopefully not arrest.
REQUIRED:
Ask for help. Accept help. Help someone else.
Let go of a burned-to-hell Known. Scoop up the ashes and use them to draw on a jaunty mustache, which you will then wear to the party that is Whatever Comes Next. Try and stay awake for all of it.
