No, I’m not “just a number.” I am many numbers and I am more than my numbers. And I don’t bemoan the numbers that identify and define me. I’m grateful because they center and ground me.
I use the word “magic” often when talking about writing, especially generative writing. And I’ll keep using it. The magic is palpable in generative writing communities. The words that emerge are generative in themselves. They generate a gentle path toward healing and compassion. This practice is a generative clay that generates community.
I’ll write to celebrate the joy I find under a bush or wedged deep inside a pocket. I’ll also voice the heartache. Not to bellyache my way through an annoyance of everyday life, but because I’m not the only one who experiences dark turns and moments bereft of light. Sharing my story lets others know they’re not alone.
Some of the special bits of this marathon will escape the page, but this jumbled stream of marathon memory is enough. My inner writer is rubbing her word belly and already poking at my 2026 calendar: “Save those dates! We’re going back.”
Some might think I waited too long to take deep creative dive. But even winter can’t stop me writing.
she modeled the wintering, the unfurling.
And I know I can stand strong in my winter when it comes.
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