@Jaritza_Geigel

As a writer I never leave home without a pair of headphones, a pen/pencil, a charged phone & a journal. I love listening to the sounds of the city. All the bustling back & forth, your ears that pick up incohesiveness of multiple conversations being merged together, and the flow of crowds as you watch from a comfortable distance. When I am not in the middle of a crowd, people watching is pretty interesting & can teach you a few things about human behavior.

So why the pair of headphones? Well it helps me to focus. It helps me zero in, completely, on one sound. This one sounds I can either pay closer attention to or it becomes such a strong point of focus that all sound becomes irrelevant & its almost like watching the world as a silent motion picture; except it’s live.

Pen or Pencil, nothing has to be permanent when it comes to writing. Words & meanings can change. I am never without a pen or a journal, on the off chance that a new idea may come to me. A charged phone can also come in handy, although I try to resist using it. Why? I want to resist editing my work as I am writing. I would rather all my thoughts, and the feelings I wish to convey, flood the page, before I go looking over it with editing eyes.

3 reasons why people are the best source for inspiration: Free, Highly Complex & they have Impact.

Whether the music is on or off, once I am in the zone I begin to create space for myself & allow the feelings that I may be sitting with to come up. Most of the time, depending on where I am & what I am listening to, it hold some influence over the mood & flow of what I want to convey. The feeling is the ocean & I choose to float with & against its currents. As a writer I have been reflecting on what it is I want to say. What is my message? Where does my story truly begin, where did it end & where does it continue to live? How does it fit in the small & vast world we find ourselves in?

people gazing affords me the opportunity to renew my hope for humanity. when the act of kindness is offered without having been asked. when the act of love lives in the smallest gesture of human and nature interaction.

A Writer’s Toolkit Playlist

Part I

I didn’t understand

And I wondered

Where had she gone?

This little girl

Who looked so much like me

Was smiling.

Her smile untouched by the realities

That growing up blind comes with.

Yes. Blind. Didn’t realize we were drowning

In untruths, mask so polished,

So well made I thought it was my own;

Until it cracked.

Cracked from mother’s I hate you’s

And daddy becomes the nothing he’s promised you.

Cracked from the misconception

that you understood your siblings to begin with.

It hits you the reality that you’ve been breed for a different purpose.

Until it cracks, that mask we wear,

Feels

So

Damn good. Until it crumbles.

Crumbles beneath the pressure

of his weight on top of you,

As he massacres innocence from your dictionary.

Crumbling as he rips empathy

From inside you,

Leaving you there to pick up

And wash away the evidence

Of apathy seeded in you.

ONE

sometimes i wake up wondering

what is the point?

the sun hits my face every morning

but i feel nothing.

sometimes i make it to the roof

hoping that maybe if i bathe in this warmth

it’ll revive what’s dead in my body.

but i never get warm.

the cold has made a home out of me

and im trying to understand what it means.

im trying to understand how to share warmth

when i’ve learned to fall in love

with the coolness of detachment.

meditation chronicles | ONE