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This is such a beautifully written essay that reonates deeply with me on more than one level. It's in those moments when I'm not grappling with all that I need to do within given time slots (mostly of my own making) that I find myself least anxious. Time seems to become more spacious. To exist only in the present, as a baby does, or even to have moments of true presence that often come with mindfulness and medication practice, is a gift. To see the 'grind' of what it really is is another kind of gift.

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Deborah Batterman
Deborah Batterman

Written by Deborah Batterman

Author of JUST LIKE FEBRUARY, a novel (Spark Press), SHOES HAIR NAILS, short stories (Uccelli Press), and BECAUSE MY NAME IS MOTHER, essays.

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