Saturday, September 14, 2019
It's nice to sit down here again after years of neglecting this blog friend. It feels like home. Ironic, because I feel like I have neglected my own home. But, that's another avenue to investigate at another time.
I've thought a lot about starting a new blog, but it never materialized. Instead, I would visit this one, read a few passages, and sign off without adding a word. And there have been so many words......so many moments I should have captured, but something told me it wasn't time to turn them into print.
They needed to float, to fly, to form edges.
Sometimes softer, less denouncing edges.
Sometimes harder, more pronouncing edges.
Those words....my images, those turns of phrases were relying on me to be patient and allowing them to find their way.
Same with the ideas.
The big chomping loud ones that rip at your insides as you process them.
The small flirtatious ones that beamed brightly but faded out before gestation
The frightening mortal ideas that stick to the inside of your skin at 3 am. Knowing full well that I should have written about them......got that bleckish bile out of my head, I didn't.
No more of that apathy. Time to take those ideas on! The anxiety it creates is too debilitating.
Are they still waiting for me, or did I miss the opportunity while collecting, feeling, pondering?
Those ideas that remained with me for weeks on end, accompanying me on walks, during times of cat friendly solitude, driving to and from the Maritimes, waiting for my desire to write again returned.... they fleeted away too.
I kept telling myself that if I continued to carry my journal with me, and if I made sure that my camera wasn't too far away, the words would nudge me again, maybe even poke me hard to search for that frame of mind. There is a certain frame of mind when it comes to writing. I've learned that and I've experienced it. Its nestled into a realm of "unsettled settling," or maybe its "settled unsettling." Either way, it is a distracted way of being like doing mental math or cryptic crosswords in your head. I don't do either, so I can only surmise its the same.......... I miss it and I yearn for it, despite the fact that once the writing begins, the socks don't get sorted. The mittens lose their way. Dinner is late.
But, that writing frame of mind is blissful. Challenging. Air clearing, tear producing, emotion rousing, and all round life affirming.
I'm almost there.........
Van Morrison plays his poetry as I find mine.......
My view is of a white capped lake that no so long ago, was filled with boats, paddle boards and kids sailing by.....of kayakers and canoeists learning how to paddle. It's a different view than my beautiful river, but just as inspiring.
Today, the wind is strong, making the shadows of the sugar maples dance with the late afternoon sun. The hydrangeas outside of my window, still boasting deep greens and fresh white blossoms do their best to stand up straight while the wind challenges them in a duel. It's like their heads are chatting back! I'm sitting at the table with the window wide open enjoying the breeze on my arms, allowing my hair to be tussled and listening to the rustling sounds that harmonize with the crickets.
It's a day when I can feel those words drift in both in sound and spirit through the screen........ it makes me light headed.
I may not have written much in this venue lately, but it feels like the waiting to capture the right images could possibly be within reach.
Posted by awareness at 4:29 pm