"come celebrate with me
that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed."
— Lucille Clifton, won't you celebrate with me
Clifton wrote this poem knowing its full weight. The "something" she describes is not abstract—it is specific to her life, her body, her history. What she reaches toward is not a denial of that difficulty but a fierce, tender noticing: I am still here. That itself is something.
For many of us, surviving has not always felt like a cause for celebration. We may move through days managed rather than inhabited, making it through without quite marking the fact of having made it through. Clifton's invitation is quiet and insistent. Not to pretend that things are easy, but to notice—however briefly—that the life in us continues. That something, despite everything, persists.
Egos Anonymous is offered in an experimental spirit—an invitation to see whether there’s interest in a shared way of working with ego, self-will, and control. The language, structure, and practices are still forming and are meant to grow through lived experience.
This is a soft launch. The hope is to eventually gather a year of reflections into a book, but for now they’re simply being shared—one day at a time—to see what resonates.
If something feels useful, confusing, incomplete, or off, feedback is welcome and genuinely appreciated. This work is meant to be shaped together.
