top of page

Wilderings: Overcome by Wilderness

April 5th - 11th, 2020

April 5th: Find a bit of nature that can hold part or all of your weight. Rest your weight on it like you just came home from a trip and you’re setting down your bags. When your mind wanders, collect your bags and set them down again.

Describe your weight and the weight of the thing on which you rested.

April 6th: Return to whatever you rested your weight on yesterday. Sit so you can see all of it at once. Look at all of it. When you mind wanders ask - what else? - and keep looking.

Write what you noticed in sentences starting with the phrase “and also you” alternating with “and also I”.

April 7th: Return again. Choose one detail on which to focus. Look at that one detail. When you mind wanders ask - what more? - and return to the detail.

Describe that detail. Start every sentence after the first with the word - more.

April 8th: Return once more. Notice everything around your bit of nature. Don’t look at your bit of nature at all. When you’re tempted say - not yet - and return to everything around it.

Describe everything else. Begin each sentence with the phrase - beside you.

April 9th: Imagine you’ve separated from your bit of nature. Write and/or draw a correspondence. Take as many of your images and as much of your text from your previous days’ exercises as you can.


Alyna O'Hanlon

Dear —-

And also you

are a teacup from the fancy shelves in Rosey’s kitchen. I

don’t understand

how it’s ever full.

At night.

How is it full?

Beside you there are petals. Beside you there are brown

birds with black heads. One brown bird who moves the dirt

with her toenails then eats

from the new-raked soil.

I don’t understand the moon.

—- Yours



Dear —-

My weight felt like something someone put on a table that

doesn’t belong

on the table. A small thing. And also,

I am not sure how to move

when the wind blows

you are so spread out, how do you not come



Even though I looked away,

I still heard the birds.


 —- Yours


Dear —-

And also you are soft, like an old woman. And also

I am soft.

Should I prune you?

I don’t know

if that’s what caring looks like.

I am not someone you ask over.




I am here, even at night.

And also


 —- Yours



Dear —-

Beside you

there are pigeons.

Beside you there are pigeons.

Beside you there are pigeons who drink from water

I’ve set out.

Beside you there are petals that

fell, and

when they fell they hit the ground as if

they were full


like fruit.


Your petals,

I guess.

The table doesn’t mind –

it could get used to it.


—- Yours

Dear —-

This could be the moon

I’ve set out

Beside you.

 —- Yours



Dear —-


Beside you there is sunlight.


 And also




—- Yours



Laura Green

bottom of page