One of the most magical things is to live your adventure in a way that makes you feel the most alive. Be unwavering in your audacity and desire, spending each moment making sure that you have squeezed everything from it.
Today I ask you to consider the things that make you feel most alive. Make a list. They can be small, like sinking your teeth into an August ripe watermelon or something significant, like completely changing your life.
Read “My Mother Says Kissing a Man Without a Mustache is like Eating Eggs without Salt” by Joy Sullivan.
My Mother Says Kissing a Man Without a Mustache is like Eating Eggs without Salt”
Joy Sullivan
Which is a better way of saying—take the scenic route.
Say I love you when it’s true. Drive 12 hours just to touch.
Buy kumquats because they’re called kumquat. Write letters.
Recite poems. Be verklempt. Rise early to hunt the moon.
Eat pastries whose names you can’t pronounce. Astonish
everyone. Haunt everything. Sing, even if poorly. Press
the peel for zest. We’re nothing but brief bodies. Hearts,
fragile as parakeets. Spit, lips, and longing. All we’ve got
is this skin. This necessary salt.
Prompt: Write an advice poem on how to feel the most alive. Show the small things that make your life feel magical, the big ones too. Write imperatively. Construct a list of manifestos on how to make the magic stay.