after the cure for it all

hi, it's me again. FCW Pop-Up classes are coming in hot. Join me this fall for a whole bunch of ways to write together. Links to class packs and registration below.

Four Chambers Writing is a writing practice for all of us and I want to share more of it with more of you. I’m hosting some new days and times in hopes of learning more about when some additonal times for class series could be as well as good times for drop-ins.

Lookout, FCW Pop-Up classes are coming in hot.

So, join me this fall for a whole bunch of ways to write together. Registration is live. Sign up here.

Discounted Pop-Up Bundles are available for purchase in packs of 4 or 8 - use them for any classes. More will be announced so stay tuned.

Made a little (and more than slightly awkward) video to share a small taste of Four Chambers Writing with you.

I hope, hope, hope with all Four Chambers of my heart to write together soon. 🫀

Fact check: Julia Fehrenbacher is an Oregon poet, not a Bay Area poet like I say in the video (selfish me wants to claim her as a neighbor, alas…).

maru mori.

1. Lie on the ground.

2. Take off your shoes and find a place to walk on top of the earth, feel the dirt, and then close your eyes and imagine a web of roots from all directions just below the surface holding you up like a net.

3. Follow the light all the way to a spider web. See how silk can resemble diamonds from one side and then wink at you like gold from another, and then from another, it goes back to being a thread tethered to the sun.

4. Revere the temporality in nature and then remember you can’t outrun heartbreak, no matter how fast you are. Like breathing, it’s our birthright.

5. Clean under the girls’ beds. Pull everything out onto the floor between where they sleep. Go through every last thing from each storage container and then find the little notes they’ve written. Rafi writes about feeling everything at once—how she names the world as both light and dark, names her sadness, and also all the love she carries. She is a rubber band that always snaps back to the center of her heart.

6. Eat a fig. They will be out of season soon, so hurry up and eat like the Gods for just a little longer.

7. Close your eyes and pull up the full moon from a week ago from the eye behind your eye.

8. Open a book of poetry to any page and read whatever is there waiting for you. Imagine the words choosing you, and not the other way around.

9. Fold someone else’s laundry and relish in the intimacy that exists in the most unexpected of places.

10. Stop whatever you are doing to tell someone you love them.

11. Do nothing.

12. Study the outline of time against the crisp yellow, against the blue, against the green, against the brown, and remember how we’re all just hanging on, literally, for dear life, from a rock in an endless sky full of refracted light.

13. When it rains, and it will, stand outside and catch the heavens on your skin.

14. Let your anger rise to the surface. Let it deliver the daily news from your blood, and then trace all those veins like rivers carrying your heart back to the center of the ocean. Remember, there’s nothing to be afraid of; all the rings in the center of your torso add up to the wholeness of you. To your holiness.

Sign up here. I want to write with you. Let’s write together. 🫀