evening journal

How do you move past something that you wanted? How do you move on past the grief of loss?

And I am not talking about material items like cars, property, or a business or financial move. Those things are easily replicated and there are legitimate options everywhere you look.

(And, actually, to be honest, if you ever had your eye on something business-y or lucrative, it is likely that you just *have an eye for that* and therefore you WILL find more.)

No, I mean something that your soul — for lack of a better word — ached for. Maybe…


day 25: final challenge entry

“I don’t know what you think you are going to find out there.”

There was a twitch in his eye as he said it to me. The innuendo heavy and insidious, saying that I wasn’t good enough to find anything better. He tried to sound nonchalant, but I heard the way his tone shifted as his voice dropped an octave. The subtle way he slowed his speech, purposefully articulating every syllable as he stared at me. It was one of the few times during our final days that he looked me in the eye when he spoke to me.

“I…


day 21

“Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.” …


day 19

People have a tendency to disappear.

The first I remember was 40 years ago this month. *poof*

And there have been a few in a row; then a few in a row — followed by a few in a row — ever since.

And maybe sometimes now I prefer to sit still, the seat next to me empty.
A preemptive cut to the chase kinda thing.

Maybe.

…Because now my heart can’t handle temporary people.

Because once I love, I love loyally.
And genuinely.
And that cannot be undone.

Even if they…. well……
(so many even ifs)…
and, that’s…


day 18

My eyes are a like a Nebula,
their swirl of green, gold, blue-gray
and warm honey-brown
creating their own gravitational pull,
…that only a select few
have been strong enough to see
all the way through.

My heart radiates outwards,
creating an electromagnetic field
that seeks to soothe other hearts;
where, protected under my own tattered
feathered wing,
my beat lulls you to sleep.

My imagination is as wild as my hair,
untamed bouncing waves of soft silk
crashing down onto my shoulders…
like the ocean raging against
ancient stone cliffs.

My laugh is varied like wind chimes,
echoing boldly through…


days 15, 16, 17

If I had it all

What does the If-I-Had-It-All Me even look like?

Does she still have wild and disheveled hair? Is she prettier? Is she smarter? Is she funnier? Is she hot? (insert fire emoji here)… Is she still *looking*? Is she kind? Is she smiling? Is she happy? … Is she still me?

I see that me sipping coffee (and sometimes Peach Bellini’s) on various bedroom balconies during sunny mornings. In different time zones and different continents. Balconies that overlook big and small cities… old and new architecture… rushing rivers… dewy forests... multiple beaches along the shores of the seven seas. …


day 14

Today, I am 2 weeks into my 30 day Writer’s Block Challenge. Here are some random thoughts.

Writing a like untangling strings of thought and crafting them into neat little functional paragraphs.

The sentence (or what the sentence wants to be) forms wordlessly at first. I know it sounds bizarre but in reality, it makes sense. Language is a concrete way to vocalize abstract things such as thought.

Writing is simultaneously relieving and painful. Sometimes it leads to clarity, other times, it feels a bit like a Merry-Go-Round.

Although I started out with a list of topics, I didn’t find…


day 13

I admit it. I get jealous. Over a few things. Ok — over a lot of things.

Jealousy is similar to FOMO: Fear of Missing Out…

But jealousy and disappointment about something that is gone and/or can’t ever *be* may be even worse.

This is called KIMO: “Knowing I Missed Out”. I first came across this term while reading a blog post by Seth Godin.

Knowing you missed out on something that you can’t have but want *so damn bad* isn’t fun.

Do you just gaslight and convince yourself that you are wrong? …


day 12

Be who you needed when you needed someone the most. Become them. And then go find the ones who need you.

Fill the gap. Offer to the world that missing piece. There are still so many missing pieces. So many people and situations that need your expertise, your unique perspective.

Be someone’s One. The One who made the difference. The One who showed they cared. The One who opens their arms when the rest of the world turned away. Kindness is like magic to someone who hasn’t ever really experienced it.

Believe in someone. Believe in them before they learn…


day 11

Would you go back and change your regrets? The immediate answer for many people, of course, is a resounding Yes.

But would you really want to? Aside from the odd Butterfly Effect/ Chaos Theory mess that you would be in, how would it change you?

Who would you *be*?

Regretting is like paying a car payment on a car you don’t even have…. it is paying interest on old worry. The energy dedicated to continually remembering, reliving the negative feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the brain-space spent on rumination is a waste of time.

Changing…

Rai Marie Hughes

Wanna be wanderer, worshiper of words, writer of rough drafts. Maker of mistakes and strong coffee. Reading you — it’s what I do.

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