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Month: June 2025

Sitting in a Hot Car / Warm Sunday Drive

Published by Lee Under the Cedar Trees on June 8, 2025

I’m sitting in my hot car with a window down and a cheap excuse for a latte in my hand that coffee snobs would scoff at. I’ve been training with people decades ahead of me, who somehow haven’t given up on me yet despite my failures, and I’m tired in a good way, and I’m still sweating, and I’m disappointed in my weak progress but also kind of glad I haven’t quit yet, I guess. My guts are complaining, and I’ve got shitty music in my ears that most would hate but apparently some others out there, somewhere, actually like too, if the global play counts displayed are to be believed.

Continue readingSitting in a Hot Car / Warm Sunday Drive

I don’t live in the past, but I do learn from it.

Published by Lee Under the Cedar Trees on June 7, 2025

I don’t live in my past. I don’t remember it clearly, even. Not most of it. However, that doesn’t stop me from internalizing the mistakes that were made and learning from them. Without even remembering their catalysts, I live and breathe and sweat those lessons today.

I don’t live in the past. What’s gone is gone, but, the past is a part of me today. It strongly indicates the future.

The lessons have been learned, but the action is still missing. Fear needs to be conquered next. The means must be collected. With the means and fearlessness, I can proceed.

A lesson from auto-correct today?

Published by Lee Under the Cedar Trees on June 6, 2025

Sometimes I find some hope for myself to become deserving of my life when I find myself changing auto-correct’s assumed “love” back into “live” for what feels like the hundredth time in recent months, and I realize that I communicate far more about loving than I do about living.

I killed it.

Published by Lee Under the Cedar Trees on June 4, 2025

I killed an insect on my desk this afternoon.
I’m not sure what it was, but it was probably harmless. 

I could have put it outside.
I could have gently shooed it somewhere else.
But, I didn’t.
I crushed it, with a tissue, so I wouldn’t dirty my fingers.

Now the stink of death lingers in the room, 
and I wonder where my heart’s gone.

.

June 4, 2025

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