Drink Me was her—admittedly, completely unoriginal—first thought. But really what else does one think when one sees a tiny door. If reading had taught her anything it was that tiny doors lead to magical places full of lovely flowers and great adventures. Intent on finding the beautiful bottle that she knew MUST be nearby, she didn’t see the bark begin to ripple. Sadly, little Allie had forgotten another important lesson about magical doors: they often have guards. Before she could even think “what a curious feeling,” she felt its arms around her. Now it’s her turn to wait.
This piece was inspired by this piece of art (provided by bookplaces Museum Writing challenge) and the following quote (offered by Reena’s Xploration challenge). Visit their sites and read some other inspired works.
“I think if you are curious, you create opportunities, and then if you open the doors, you create possibilities.”
In the days of yore, my two favorite morning activities (after coffee of course) were bike riding and writing. Each offered a safe space where the passing of time seemed to disappear. The rhythmic pace of the peddling and the quiet tap of the keyboard were all I needed to reach a zen-like state. For many years, they were the flip sides of my morning meditation routine.
I can still lose hours writing (although “lose” seems like the wrong word because it’s wonderful to be in that zone), but my biking experience has changed.
Two years ago, I crashed. And now, among other things, I’m full of titanium.
I still bike, but I’ve lost that ability to get lost in the moment. Instead, I’m a bit obsessed with scrutinizing every bump. And holding my breath. And bracing for possible impact. I feel trapped in that last second before the world comes crashing down.
(It’s remarkably similar to how I feel about the world in general. We’ve clearly gotten stuck in the worst timeline. Reagan’s repulsive Morning in America campaign escalated the Doomsday clock and we’re hurtling towards the end. The courts won’t save us. VOTE BLUE.)
But, I digress …
I feel trapped but I’m not. I keep moving. I remind myself to feel the rhythm when I peddle. Avoid the obstacles, but also notice all the beauty around me. And to breathe.
I’m hopeful that someday soon, I’ll once again be able to lose myself in the moment.
Image credit Sarah Whiley
Penitence” by Fritz Zuber-Buhler (1822-1896)
Tina Stewart Brakebill 