by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Apr 1, 2017 | accumulation, continuous life, essays, journeys, life, marriage, memory, my writing, provincetown, time, truth |
It seems impossible and yet it’s true. 50 was about proving I surely wasn’t. 60 is about loving the years. So, hello, sixty, I’m happy to be here. Aging is an extraordinary process where you become the person you always should have been. –David...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Feb 14, 2017 | 60 to 60, accumulation, continuous life, life, memory, time |
As you might imagine, I did not intend to write a post called 46 to 60. It was supposed to be 50 to 60. But the days fly by. And it occurs to me, as I pause to consider this approaching birthday by writing something about it, that in singling out these 60 days prior...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Feb 1, 2017 | 60 to 60, accumulation, continuous life, life |
Hey there. Hope you’re all well. Tell me what you’ve been up to! Hard to believe it’s been almost a year since I wrote anything in this space other than the introduction to the next writer in the series. But I just double checked. I finished my year...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Dec 15, 2015 | 1 true thing, accumulation, Columbus GA |
These days I can write anywhere, but usually I’m writing in Provincetown, which you’ve seen loads of photos of, or in my study in Columbus. Which I thought about cleaning up, but… here’s the cluttered truth of it. A kind spiral tour. This...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Apr 14, 2015 | accumulation, continuous life, essays, journeys, life, marriage, memory, my writing, provincetown, time, truth |
I can’t possibly be this old and yet I am. Resisting the truth doesn’t make me any more comfortable in my ever more freckled skin. So for the second year in a row, I’m greeting my age and giving it a great big hug. I found that last year’s opening to...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Feb 16, 2015 | 1 true thing, accumulation |
In direct contradiction with my tendency to save stuff, and/or because of it, I love getting rid of things and fantasize about a life with only the minimum. I imagine what the minimum would look like–seven of everything clothes-wise, ten books, one set of...
