LitFox Flow

Tag: writing reflections

  • Thank You for Being Here

    Thank You for Being Here

    Dear reader,

    Thank you.

    Truly & Fully—thank you for being here.

    Whether you’ve been reading since the first post or you’re just poking around and found your way to this post… I’m so grateful you’re sharing this space with me.

    LitFox Flow was born out of a desire to create something slow, intentional, and real.

    A space for softness. For stories. For stitching life together one word, one loop, one moment at a time.

    And knowing that even one person is reading these reflections… it means more than I can say.

    You don’t have to comment or subscribe or even read every post.

    Just the fact that you’re here, now, is enough.

    This past month, I’ve shared thoughts on joy, on making things without finishing them, on the magic of showing up gently. It’s been tender and a little vulnerable, but so rewarding.

    And your quiet presence—the simple fact that these words are being witnessed—makes the process sacred.

    So, thank you.

    For your time.

    For your energy.

    For your beautiful, creative spirit that I know is out there moving through the world in your own way.

    I hope this space continues to be a place where you feel safe to land.

    Where you feel inspired, seen, comforted, or even just… reminded that softness is allowed.

    More words are coming. More rituals. More joy.

    But today? I’m just letting my heart say:

    You matter. You’re appreciated. You’re part of the magic.

    With so much gratitude,

    Lindsay

    🔥🦊

  • What If Joy Was a Habit, Not a Reward?

    What If Joy Was a Habit, Not a Reward?

    What if joy wasn’t something we earned after we worked hard, cleaned the kitchen, hit the word count, paid the bills, or checked all the boxes?

    What if joy was a daily rhythm—woven in like breath, not bolted on like a prize?

    I’ve been sitting with this idea a lot lately:

    What if joy is a habit, not a reward?

    Not some far-off destination, but a quiet practice I return to every day. A way of seeing. A way of being.

    Joy doesn’t have to be big or performative or “aesthetic.”

    It can be:

    • Stirring your tea slowly

    • Choosing the playlist that makes your shoulders drop

    • Letting yourself pause before rushing to the next task

    • Saying no without explaining

    • Laughing at something really dumb because it felt good in your body

    For me, building a joy practice isn’t about “finding” time for joy…

    It’s about giving joy permission to exist in the spaces that are already here.

    And if I’m honest? Sometimes it feels rebellious.

    Because the world tells us that joy is something you get after being productive. After being useful. After suffering a little.

    But I’m not here for that timeline anymore.

    I want joy in the middle of the mess.

    In the mundane.

    In the morning when nothing went right.

    In the five-minute breath between tasks.

    Even in laundry. (Sometimes. Sort of.)

    So I’m starting to build a new habit. Not a perfect one. Not a Pinterest one.

    Just a habit of noticing where joy already wants to show up.

    Maybe that’s what this blog is, honestly—

    A joy practice, disguised as writing.

    A way to remind myself (and you, if you’re reading this):

    We don’t have to wait.

    Joy can happen right here.

    Right now.

    With love and a quiet rebellion,

    Lindsay

    🔥🦊