July 11th, 2022
I’m sorry.
Lately I’ve been in self-promotion mode. (But, kids, we’re selling books, so it’s working.) I made the decision to release the two biggest books of my life within a month of each other; that is the bed I made, and I am stressfully, sleeplessly laying in it.
But I do miss writing about life stuff.
Though life stuff is so big right now.
When things feel massive, I tend to turn inward, squint into the darkness and see how everything small sparkles.
The tiniest things have meant the most over the past few months to me.
I recently learned that small things I did helped people I care about in ways I could have never imagined; small things are the things that stay rent-free in my mind as I find myself increasingly overwhelmed by the worldness of the world.
In the video game Sonic the Hedgehog 2, Sonic cannot swim. When he enters a body of water, he sinks right to the bottom; I am not sure this is based on real hedgehog physiology.
Sonic also can’t breathe underwater; this part, I understand, is based on real hedgehog biology.
As he walks along the bottom of the screen, he comes upon small pockets of earth that release tiny bubbles. He’s able to breathe in these miniature bursts of air and not drown.
The small moments in life are those bubbles for me. The acts of unconditional kindness, of simple banter, of dumb jokes.
I don’t know where this planet or country or state or city is heading. I don’t even know where I’m heading.
But I know wherever I go, there will be bubbles along the way.
And I just have to remember to breathe them all in.
The Den 