Yesterday was the seven-year anniversary of me not puking in my mouth, or in the toilet. I had big dreams of writing a beautiful and redeeming poem, but then it turned out to be one of those days when I had to surrender to the humbling yet life-saving magic of cutting myself a break and grabbing a sandwich and a nap. At least there was some reluctant dancing. And in my head the poem goes something like this,
Seven years later
still not as grateful
The ghosts are still hungry.
It was beautiful of you to imagine that this might have been any different.
And brave that you walked on anyways.
Send your imaginary letters to Vincent to ericaschmidt85(at)gmail(dot)(com).
|With Love to your Hungry Ghosts|
Follow Erica J. Schmidt on Facebook
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
I Let Go
Bodhisattva Business Ventures:
Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica)
Montreal Hippie Threads (@mtlhippiethreads)
Not Separate From All That Is
The Benefits of an Ashtanga Yoga Practice, Part Two
Fat Days for Boys