My writing mind is hibernating a bit at the moment. When insights come, they are simple and small. I don’t have the focus to string things together very articulately. And if I attempt to force it, I’m pretty sure it will show.
So don’t be surprised if the next few posts from me are sparse. I do believe in the discipline of “butt in chair,” but I don’t believe in content for the sake of content. So I’ll offer what I have, and nothing more.
As a reminder, paid subscribers (Hi, Mom!) receive an extra seasonal post full of curated goodies, and the Winter Solstice Smörgåsbord will be coming your way next week. Think songs, poems, reading recommendations, and seasonal prompts for writing and reflection.
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Okay, that’s it for the spiel. Here’s your poem:
Ursa Major
Sometimes she holds it all in, but more often the smooth arc of her spine tilts, pouring it all out ungracefully upside down that big mama bear
This week, I am hosting a little holiday party, but I’m also calling it a birthday party for the famed song-and-dance man, Dick Van Dyke, who is turning 100. Van Dyke is one of my heroes, and I think what I admire most is his dedication to whimsy. He’s a comedian, yes, but also just a purely playful human. So in his honor, let’s make our prompt about harnessing a little bit of whimsy. Here are some ideas:
Change up your routine. Take the scenic route. Stop to admire the stars, or some holiday lights. Do it all backwards. Skip something altogether.
Treat yourself. Add a dollop of whipped cream to your coffee. Toss some chocolate chips in your oatmeal. Read a book for 20 minutes. No guilt allowed, because this is your medicine.
Embrace the silly. Wear one of those elf hats with the ears. Do all the voices when reading to your kids. Do that one thing that never fails to make your partner laugh. Be the first to make a fool of yourself.
Sing and dance. It might be in the car, or in the shower, or on the chairlift. Play that song that makes you smile, and let loose like you’re the world’s most talented chimney sweep.
As always, notice how the whimsy lands in your body. And be warned: it might be contagious. Or help you live to 100.
With light, life, and love,
Devon
Mmm…beautiful poem. And, yes, whipped cream. Maybe I’ll add that to everything between now and Christmas.