I’m Not Afraid

Another slow morning. Curled up in the library chair (my “fancy” wingtip, even-if-it’s-just-Ikea chair) with coffee, the news, and the white noise of the space heater. It would be perfect, if I weren’t lathering myself with guilt because I am still not back to the old routines. I … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Waulking Song

All the things “our” culture has lost. I am not sure what I mean by “our”, really. I’ve got no stories handed down from lap to lap with tiny spoons, in black and white because that is what the past looked like. I remember getting my hair washed in the kitchen sink. Maybe, just ma … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

What You Attend To

It is a full moon and a mild morning. And a walk around the block that I would have done better taking alone. Beginning a new week with old arguments. The kind that rub on the same spot and threaten to fray everything. Old resentments rush like metal shavings to a magnet. It is g … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

The Fight, the Flow, and the Fetish

I set an alarm. But this half-hearted effort to write daily doesn’t always make sense to me. There are too many days where I wake with nothing on my mind and then, while typing, thoughts form on their own – and I am not sure they are mine. How healthy is that thought when you […] | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Can We Look Away?

It is one of those mornings when I put my fingers on the keys and stare a few moment as my hands. The pattern of blood vessels on the back of each. Ropey and bluish, like a coarse crochet work. There are still things these hands will learn to do, or learn to do better. […] | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

All the Things I Don’t Remember

Every time I moved, cardboard boxes and milk crates, I shed memories on the porous sidewalks. Metal roller skates and skinned knees. My name is… In third grade mid-year, all the other kids knew their times tables. The teacher put on a record and they sang along. I knew the inch w … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

I got nothing this morning – except runner’s knee again, which is why the neatly planned morning is falling apart. Frustration. My body. My dog – who for some reason has turned the clock back suddenly and is waking me at 3 am. And, yeah, I am up for about 15 minutes to deal with … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Leaning into the Wallpaper

This morning I listened to the Life Kit podcast while walking the dog. It was about dealing with dread. And one solution they offered was Death Meditation. I don’t know. I think I am on board with scheduling time to worry, but I am not convinced that meditating on my own death wi … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Living with Wounds

Freezing rain. Nothing new on a dark and gusty morning. Feeling myself settle into the familiar. Even the familiar pains are comforting. Maybe there is a center that holds, patiently, to be discovered again after the turmoil and apparent displacement. I am in the process of clean … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Calendars, Conductors, and 31 Dosas

So many rabbit holes I want to explore today. I am procrastinating. The laundry needs sorting and washing, the atelier needs de-cluttering, and my bookshelves are chaos. Thursday was the first day of spring in the Hindu calendar, and I missed it. Saraswati is honored on that day, … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Not me, me.

I sent this to myself on telegram yesterday – a note I wanted to return to in the morning writing time. I have forgotten the exact context. But I think it had something to do with meta-perspective and watching oneself and not recognizing oneself. And I figure this must have to do … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Shifting Responsibility

I’ve been thinking more about care. And about how I bristle when people talk about “winning” at life. And about joy. I don’t know that I believe in an intentional deity, one that puts living creatures on the earth for a “purpose”. In part because I am so intrigued by what defines … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Sleep’s Unconditional Care

I was in bed reading before eight. Out by eight thirty. The room was cold, but I wore wool – shoulders to toes. I have no idea if I dreamt, but I woke clear this morning and took a longer walk than usual. Soft rain is perfect running weather really, but I am easing back […] | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

A Sudden Tug

I’m on my third cup of coffee, which is probably not a great idea. I dreamt last night about B’s dying for the first time. Then I had an awkward dream about eating in a restaurant – and being in the way. On her podcast B. talked about creating meaning in things, rather than searc … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Living the Past

The slow alarm’s light begins to fade up at 4 am. I like waking this way. The phone rings, but it isn’t B. or the kids, so I don’t take it. I may be awake, but my waking is intentional, and this time sacred. I’m not sure sacred is the right word, but it is […] | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Avoiding Inspiration

It’s like I’m trying to prove something to myself. Every “fresh start” stumbles on a flu bug, or something similar. I am not going to call it self-sabotage. I’m not going to label it at all. Because this is life, and I am beginning to think that the proof of devotion isn’t necess … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

So, not Artaud’s spurt of blood

Came home yesterday to find that Leonard had eaten 11 eggs from a carton I left on the counter. He’s never done anything like that before. I think that the sulfur-like emissions coming from the corner of the room last night affected my dreams. I was visiting B., and she and I wen … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Separation Anxiety

Ten days with no cuddling is too much for Leonard. In that sense, it is a good thing I couldn’t stay on another week in Bangalore. He’s pouting so that I begin to wonder if he’s lost his hearing in this time. He’s ripped down the blinds in the kitchen (again), chewed the frame of … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

The Fear of Silence

I’ve been listening to a Freakonomics MD podcast about the effects of Facebook (and social media in general) on our mental health. Some of the studies are relatively old, but interesting. It’s also interesting that they talk about envy and depression, but not shame. I don’t think … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Cat in the Sack

I think I make this time of year hard for myself. It needn’t be. Not really. I think it is a couple of years ago now, I heard a podcaster repeating her own advice to her grown children: stay away from anyone who doesn’t have a close family because there is something wrong with th … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Post Long Covid Torpor

I’m thinking I can probably be happier by not actively participating on social media platforms. And I think I’ve known this for a while. What was life like before listservs and the blogosphere, much less before Facebook? I emigrated just as those things took hold. And I think tha … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Pulling Inwards

” [W]e’re saying that if you only leave the home three days a week or less, we’re proposing that figure to be the threshold for social withdrawal. In other words, the threshold to meet the definition of hikikomori.” BBC, Science Focus Who gets to determine where the normal spectr … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Waiting for Approval

I’ll know by Monday whether I can leave for India after New Year. I’m waiting for funding. For permission to take a very short leave of absence. I haven’t been excited about it. I have sent emails. Checked to see if my vaccinations are up to date. But I haven’t hoped really. I’m … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Processing

(These unsolicited writing prompts are annoying as all get-out!) I am trying to curse less often. I try, but then I forget why I would even want to put in the effort of self-censorship. It seems to go against the grain of everything I am wanting to do these days: to just let go. … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

The Tyranny of the Gift

When did WordPress begin to offer a writing prompt on the blank post page? Have I been gone so long? It feels intrusive. It’s an offering that probably feels like a service to the giver, but feels like a tiny condescension from this end. Now wild animals are creeping around the e … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Life as a Ghazel

The wind is moving through the house. It slams against the siding and creeps between the cracks. We’ve had a mild autumn. Only now does an edge of winter bite my ears and nose when I walk to the train. I pull tight the ties of the hood of my jacket to cinch it together, […] | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

A Celebration of the Banal

The dog woke me at a quarter to five. He’s supposed to do that. But it’s not like I always appreciate it. I let him out into the yard and start the coffee machine. I pour a cup of dog food into the maze dish for him to root around in later. I fill the […] | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Now That That’s Off My Chest

Synthetic fragments: unnatural elements (in my context of rumination: constructed events) juxtaposed without narrative considerations. It’s Heiner Müller’s term for his post-modern drama. Reminiscent of Dada, I think. An unacknowledged return to Surrealist freedoms. And here I go … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

The Necessary Room for Solitude

The Necessary Solitude for Work I am still dragging after losing my studio access for the next two years. This is the third time I’ve begun working up there, then been displaced. I know that creativity is supposed to blossom in a pinch; that restrictions are supposed to spark out … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Today When I Rattle the Bones

This past week I’ve been checking my watch and thinking: yes, but what time is it “really”? It’s not that I am still on Canary Island time. I don’t think I was ever there, settled into a rhythm of any sort. I’ve been just feverish enough to excuse the complete absence of personal … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Fear the Lawnmower

Demna is verified on Instagram. 360K followers and not a single post, or bio link. It’s the new Burlesque. The real hook with Harry Potter is actually getting that letter and being admitted into the secret club. That is the ultimate tapped desire in the story. The rest is recycle … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

No Going Home Again

I let myself get sunburned. And I really can’t explain why. We can be self-destructive in the strangest ways. Back at work on Monday morning, then, by evening, hit with the full force of whatever bug caught E. and me down in the Canaries. Something that bit hard around the edges … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Clinging to Habits

I’m rushed this morning. It is difficult to prioritize sleep and still get in all the activities that are “supposed to” fill the morning. The whole idea of my morning routine is to begin the morning slowly, and easily. It depends entirely on having the discipline to get to sleep … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

(Not) Running at the Speed of Light

I opened the door this morning to let Leonard out and heard cows lowing. On still mornings, when we run at the lake, it’s possible to hear sheep. But we’ve never heard cows here. After I got myself a cup of coffee, I told E., who opened the door for a minute and heard nothing. [… … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Not Regret

Another Monday after an uneventful weekend. The days slide by in a gray wash lately. I can’t seem to get enough sleep. When I walk Leonard, sometimes my head is full of words that disappear before I reach home. I suppose it makes no difference really. I thought the thoughts, whic … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

Boop

Was going to sleep in this morning, but a cold nose on mine woke me. He loves routine. I wish I could be better for him. But I did get up and let him out in the yard. I push the button to grind a cup of coffee. Before it is done, Leonard is in […] | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago

The Dead are Listening

I’ve had a gift certificate on my desk since my birthday in April. Yesterday I finally swapped it for four books that seem oddly symbolic. I got Autumn and Winter by Ali Smith. Fry’s Mythos, which I started last night but am not sure I like, and… I worry about my memory. Still. Y … | Continue reading


@renpowell.com | 1 year ago