Sophie's Musings

The Water Bearer

By Sophie | May 23, 2018

“I’m looking through rough drafts of my next project and I wanted to share this with my friends”
Sophie

 

Before that propitious Spring would begin to stir inside the wintery bones of Manhattan, and I would stride through the puddling park toward east fifty seventh street to meet you, there was a girl heedless of destiny. Before I would stand still across the street from your studio beneath the black,

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The Power of Connections

By Sophie | April 20, 2018

Good Evening, people of the light and shadows, contrast, layers, mass and fine lines. I’ve been wanting so much to share an experience of reading a book with you, and I’ve been thinking, as I fall asleep working on something, I must tell my friends about this book, because the only time I put it down is to cry.

This was a funny day, humorous in its assault of cold winds and dim atmosphere,

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Disarming Children

By Sophie | March 14, 2018

I couldn’t wait to get to my son’s school at 10 am to stand with the students and faculty in silence. I cut fast on my scooter through the abrasive cold, Pooh weather, I call it. Blustery March, full of light and promise and surprises.

There they were, heads bowed, in the right, belonging to the world of people who want children to be protected even from their own confusing impulses. Here I come,

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If I Were Dying

By Sophie | May 31, 2017

Last night, Memorial Day night, I was lying between my son and daughter, whispering with them as if a grown up were going to come in and yell at us. We were laughing about a girl who had terrorized the playground all weekend, scandalized the mothers by refusing to get off the “spinner” and let their children have a turn. Dashiell called her the “Sassy Grump” and followed his imagination through scenarios of the Sassy Grump taking over playgrounds all over the city,

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The Big Pink

By Sophie | January 22, 2017

By Sophie B. Hawkins

When you are about to lose something, someone valuable, that’s when you sacrifice your time, your way of life to hold onto them, that’s when you become really present. When you are about to lose something you love is when you get on your knees and beg.

Maybe that’s the silver lining of Trump becoming president. We are not willing to lose what we love about this country and we are willing to get on our knees for Miss Liberty not to go away.

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Tribal Thoughts

By Sophie | July 29, 2016

Dear friends, I was walking Esther down the street on a hot yesterday and kept stepping into the shade. I’m looking for the shade in every moment, I thought. I’m not drawn to the fiery hot aspect of ideas, people, attractions or emotions. I’m leaning into the cooler, quieter perimeters of observation. Especially in my creative work right now, where there is plenty of heat in the content of what I’m writing, I keep edging into the shady spots.

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Meeting David Bowie

By Sophie | January 11, 2016

There are people who bring up the question of who are we and why do we matter. When I heard David Bowie for the first time, the sun was pouring onto the living room floor like batter, and you were sitting next to the victrola, looking at an album cover, “Changes One”. I was nine. I was drawn into the room by his voice. The purity of that moment is astounding to me now. I was over whelmed with curiosity and also aversion because his music was a little strange.

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GROWING INDEPENDENCE

By Sophie | July 4, 2015

By: Sophie B. Hawkins

This evening, Dashiell and I walked onto the beach with dry branches and matches, kindle from the 7/11, a blanket and some water. The sky was as bright as laughing children, the sand warm, and the ocean waves as relaxed as horses turned out in the field, swishing their tails, snorting, and hanging their heads in the long grass.

We found a hidden spot near the dunes and dug a deep,

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Intimacy

By Sophie | March 20, 2014

Hello people of the light, how are you? I am fine. I shake my head, how does one blog totally honestly, intimately; knowing intimacy has no integrity on the Internet. It’s a form of thought promotion. And yet in writing books, stories, novels, songs there is no false idea or hiding of the truth, because, speaking for myself, art is an honest search for the truth. Art could be an abstract audit of the balancing act between one’s heart,

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Birthday Blog

By Sophie | November 23, 2013

You know when people say about childhood, “it goes by so fast”? And when they say that I think, ‘I’m sitting at the table of this child’s life until there’s no place set for me, and then I’ll never pass up an invitation to come back and feast.’

We celebrated Dashiell’s fifth birthday and I remembered the day he came out of my body, how I felt when I saw him for the first time.

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Hello near winter babies…

By Sophie | November 11, 2013

Hello near winter babies, hello from Fla. Crimson and Prussian blue scarves stretch across the pearly dome of atmosphere, sky, un endless sky, how lucky we are to catch the light of that long ago sun.

We played last night for the pussycats. Isn’t that an androgynous word? For the Pussies and the Cats. More Pussies than Cats, to be sure, and it was a good show for all of us creative folk.

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I am sitting in my New York apartment

By Sophie | October 6, 2013

Hello People Of The Light, how are you? I am sitting in my New York apartment hearing sirens tweak the night and mufflers like didgereedoos charge down the open avenue. That’s how I know what time it is, by how fast a motorcycle can fly by. And that’s the time I’m finally still, my heart slipping into the locomotion of my dishwasher in the kitchen. My new old kitchen. My new old friend. My new old mother.

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