Prompts

Acceptance . . . Prompt #728

A writer and writing teacher I admire,  Rebecca Evans, talked about an Entry Point as an opener when writing. Rebecca asked us to think of comfortable things. Things you’re wearing and you don’t even know you’re wearing, like eyeglasses. I thought that was interesting because I don’t like wearing my glasses. I usually take them off as soon as I get home from going out. About a week after Rebecca’s workshop, as I drove to my first errand, things looked blurry. I couldn’t read signs clearly. I thought, “I need to get my eyes checked.” I accomplished my errands. Got home. And did my usual, took my glasses off first thing. That’s when I noticed . . . I was not wearing my distance glasses. I was wearing my computer glasses. I guess the moral is things can be comfortable without our even noticing it. Or, maybe the moral is…

Prompts

Comfort Food and more  . . . Prompt #727

Excerpted from the May 2023 issue of the Sonoma County Gazette: Research over the past 20 years shows the same result time and time again: when we’re stressed, we want what researchers call high energy and nutrient-dense foods—those snacks, treats and meals that are high in fat and sugar. Comfort foods improve mood, reduce loneliness and connect us to cherished memories, often linked to childhood. A craving for comfort food typically stems from an extreme emotion, including happiness, meaning we reach for comfort foods even to celebrate. Comfort foods often trigger our reward system by releasing dopamine, a hormone and neurotransmitter. When we take a bite of that comfort food, whether it’s a hot fudge sundae, peanut butter and apples, tikka masala or a double bacon cheeseburger, dopamine floods the brain and gives us a huge boost of pleasure feelings. Any negative feelings we may have been experiencing before—stress, anger,…

Prompts

I wish I had known . . . Prompt #726

I wish I had known . . . Response by Muriel Ellis: I don’t think I would really want to have known what my life would bring. Of course, I wish I’d done some things differently, made more time for the family I loved. I wish I hadn’t abandoned writing for so many years, over and over again. I certainly wish I’d known when I heard the grim news “malignant,” when it applied to lungs that it did not mean horrendous surgery with scant hope of recovery. And I wish that, before I knew all would be well, that I had actually written all those letters of accumulated love and wisdom that I planned to leave for my family—maybe even a page or two for assorted nieces and nephews and their offspring. Well, I didn’t. And, yes, I know it’s not too late, but that’s another story. Life is full…