And I make five.
Was it the moon, shining big and bright in my window?
Or was it specific and non-specific worry that roused me at 3:30 am and kept me awake for the next two hours, tossing and turning before dozing fitfully and coming in and out of wild dreams for the next two?
Tonight I'm asking for nice dreams. And maybe some poetry.
The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.
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