Writings by Catherine Babbitt
He lingered in the doorway, tall and dark. And bright too, in the glow of the sun that sizzled his face.
Powerful. Me becoming who I am or who I wish to be. How do we bring that about, this believing in oneself? Ultimately, this unshakable belief stems from me believing in myself—owning myself, all of me.
Shade sweeps over my toes and hair. My hips sway, as I talk low, threading words into sentences, traversing the airwaves to another. Her voice, small and intelligent, vast in her breath of language, is articulate and a joy.
She is round and fluid in a long floral skirt and a salmon-colored short-sleeve shirt. She drinks coffee, her gaze flits over the room.
Stirring of thought.
Listening to a song, something about love being more painful than hate. I wondered if that was true? Is that my experience with love? Is love more painful than hate? I guess it depends on what you consider painful.
Character — the willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life — is the source from which self-respect springs. – Joan Didion Responsibility. Engagement of self and ego and pride and humility and every nook and cranny between all things we consider we want and wish for and need. We may run from responsibility. We…
If we all did the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves. – Thomas Alva Edison What would the world look like if we all “did the things we [were] capable of doing?” That world would be a sight to see, don’t you think? I love this quote, find it inspiring,…
You are part and plenty, sunshine and illumination, warmth and radiant clarity. A vein of continuous vibrancy twining each limb, each muscle, each organ, each bone a million times over, cinching them together. A forever component that cannot break, will never wear, will always thrum gently, vigorously, persistently against my breastbone. Even in times of…
Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone. – Pablo Picasso I think dishes qualify. Or vacuuming. Or cleaning windows and folding clothes. Hell, cleaning clothes at all. Paying bills should be tacked onto the list, or replying to emails that really shouldn’t need a reply. Taking out the…
The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time. – Jack London Time, like small pebbles between our fingers, so easy to slip, slip, through our grasp. Even if we clamp down, there’s no stopping the pebbles,…
I blink, want to shutter my eyes, not sure what elseTo say. No words penetrate my mind. I’m uncomfortable.I need to let you go, but you refuse to release your grip,So I remain. Tender loss perambulates, quickens my heart,Entrenches me in grief, as if you died, but you sit before me.You demand something, a splint…
