![]() ![]() In my fridge is the intent of someone who wants to be healthy (whatever that means), who wants to do their part for the planet, and be compassionate toward all living beings. ![]() But also more agency, reflected in the smaller number of half-empty sauces, and the careful attentiveness in making sure nothing is wasted. My fridge is a little emptier these days, a sign of living with less-less people, less money. So my fridge no longer houses animal products, a staple of my childhood that I eagerly let go of. ![]() I grew up loving animals, yet it took 22 years for me to try and do something about the fact that billions of them suffer intensely and unecessarily for us humans to have our choice of cut, or our brief moments of pleasure. I’ve always had a refrigerator-what does that say about my privilege, and about the magical ability to preserve food for weeks or months that I grew up taking for granted? In my fridge today, gone are the deli meats and 2% milks of childhood. I’ll share this one in full, as its arc is a bit more coherent:Ī lot has changed about the refrigerators in my life. So it’s only right that I wrote about different mental snapshots of the inside of a refrigerator. This prompt brought on a mild panic when the timer started as my mind frantically searched for something meaningful that would seem deep and elicit “mmm”s if I were to share it. What has changed about it now since your first encounter with that place? What is now missing? Imagine a recent photograph or scene of a place you know well. Part II: The Present, embracing grief and loss. What comes to the surface? Was it what you expected? Give part I a try-first for twelve minutes, and then with a bit of reflection. That tree was a loyal companion in retrospect, and I hope they’ll forgive my landscaping efforts. Drenched t-shirts, metallic drinks from the hose, and the bowls of Honey Nut Cheerios that followed in an attempt to recover from the deep-seated fatigue of self-imposed training after the more formal practices or games that had taken place earlier in the day. It makes me want to move…Ī couple days removed from the workshop, what most viscerally comes to mind when I think about basketball, childhood, and the lifetimes spent in my backyard-imagination on full blast as I celebrated with teammates made of air or cursed the wind out loud for blowing my game-winning shot off course-is sweat. ![]() And like I said, he seems to be really into these odd movements with the round thing. It’s nice having consisent non-tree company, though. I feel like I was here first, but these human people seem to only care when something’s in their way. So much so that he’s cut off one of my branches before so he had more space to throw it without hitting me. …he seems to really care about this round thing and the circle with a net attached to it. A few lines from my hurried jotting went like this: I took that as a sign and rode the momentum, attempting to embody a tree next to my backyard basketball hoop that was always littering the small court with fallen debris and getting in the way of my baseline jumpshots. What came to mind (again, quite unexpectedly) was the word basketball. Alternatively, write about a place that makes you feel like a child again.Īs we introduced ourselves before we dove into the first prompt, we had to give a word that comes to mind when we think of home. Write from the perspective of a tree, rock, lake, or another person or animal from that place. Think of a place that reminds you of your childhood. Part I: The Past, remembering and embodying. ![]()
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