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#LinkYourLife

I’m excited to be hosting this week’s #LinkYourLife Community Roundup! This roundup was born of a challenge posed to the #LinkYourLife community through our Facebook group several weeks ago. The idea is to highlight the amazing voices within the group through an elective share thread. This has been wonderful because our Twitter share community has grown so large it is a very difficult to pull every share into a roundup.  A smaller pool of shares allows for deeper reading of each piece. This, in turn, allows for deeper connection. Now for

I love you most when you are drifting under the wings of nightmares my ear against the grain of your closed wooden door I miss you most when you sleep twisted in the fear you will slip the tether lose your one, small soul. Rest, child. I will hold your string you are the gift I prayed for when I fed blood to Mother Earth.   All of my children struggle with nightmares, but especially one. I find myself waiting at his door listening with my heart as he whimpers.

Despite blood relation, Shareen and I grew up not knowing each other. The last time we saw each other was approximately 31 years ago. We reconnected as adults through the magic of Facebook combined with my work as a writing coach and editor. But you wouldn’t know that through online exchanges. We hit it off hard and fast. She asked me to support her dream of building Open Thought Vortex. As we were working together, I chatted with her about my dream of building  #LinkYourLife into a community based off of truly reading shared work-knowing each

You may have noticed #LinkYourLife just went through some serious visual rebranding. It started in the Facebook group with new admins, each of whom has their own supportive thread (or threads) or host throughout the week. With the new graphics, we have already seen greater engagement and more linking. Many #Lifers have a #LinkYourLife button already present on the blog. It links back to the original #LinkYourLife post, inviting artists of all types to join the movement, forging deeper connections that go beyond the page. The #LinkYourLife community is amazing

You tell me which is the truth and which is a lie. I may or may not confirm if you are correct. You may or may not be correct with any guess. I may or may not have put two truths and a lie into every statement. Parse at your own risk. I write under a secret name for a little known site with an assumed identity. It’s all very hush hush.  When I have a cold, I eat exclusively Chinese food. Egg drop soup? Chicken fried rice? Crab Rangoon? 

I was never able to skate backward, but I was an ace at taking the curves full speed in the skating rinks of my childhood. When I wasn’t coasting around the rink floors, I tried to recreate the soothing mood of the rink at home. I know what you’re thinking. Skating rinks are loud with flashing lights, ugly carpets, that old shoe smell and unstable crowds on wheels. All of that was overpowered by the hum of wheels against the wooden floor. That was part of the magic, part of

A member of the #LinkYourLife community is hurting and has asked for help. No doubt someone among us is hurting and is afraid to ask for help. Let’s team up and link up and blow away that hurt and fear using that power of community and compassion.  You wrote deep and you were exposed. What did it feel like when readers/viewers/listeners witnessed your work? What did it feel like when they challenged your experience? We have all been hurt. Write the hurt. We’ve all had a moment of regret. Write

by Shareen Mansfield True story: I’m divine. Shawna, I prefer calling you Spock because I always spell Shawarama when I type your name. I’m hungry. Anyway, so Drew Sheldon is the winner. I used a scientific method that I made up to choose him. I went to the mall for Auntie Anne’s Pretzels. I know…gluten. So, I knew you’d mention the gluten so I decided to get jelly beans. I wanted exactly $100 of jelly beans. Why? Who cares. They are Jelly Belly’s. I’m committed to this as part of

I sat at the table picking bits of ground lamb and tomato off the “pizza” on my plate. It was a quiet evening two weeks into my 2002 trip to Lebanon. The heat was oppressive. I wasn’t hungry. I also wasn’t thinking. My aunt’s eyes were discs when I looked up. She whispered my name in high-noted horror. I quickly withdrew my hands, embarrassed to be caught playing with my food at age 22. I cleaned my fingers with a napkin and folded the sfiha in half, taking my aunt’s

Eight years ago on this day, my second child was born. Since, Gabriel has shown himself to be independent, empathetic, intelligent, compassionate and endlessly, energetically curious. His birth was a whirlwind. He exited too quickly, fracturing my pelvis and failing to be squished enough by contractions to have the water forced from his lungs. The doctor and nurses whisked him away from me. We spent the next three days observing his breathing, me in intense pain and full of post-partum hormones and fear. It eventually turned into depression. That isn’t

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