Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Breathing Room and Daily Allowance
Fall is crisply nibbling away at the edges of my torpor.
And orange is my new favorite color. ...cannot seem to get enough of it...and am eating fresh oranges in the morning as well, in an effort to infuse my soul with sunshine and vitamin C.
I am going away to the West Coast in late November.
A lengthy series of days away from my normal life here....and i can hardly stand the need to wait for that Pacific Ocean! I am happy to have been granted my vacation request, and also a little scared to be away from this grind and from my darling husband for that long.....we become slaves to our captors, I've read....not that Peter is a captor...he is the love of my life and I adore him....but we have such an intense way of living here, so deeply entrenched in our beloved duties in the name of Art...it feels odd to contemplate the letting go of those duties...the putting those duties 2000 miles away from my clutching grasp...the perspective -restoring act of placing myself , on purpose, so far away from the familiar.....feels sort of odd. But I am glad for it.
There is no real danger in it. Just an imagined one, in my tired and over-worked brain.
i yearn to write. To write well. To produce some art that will help me and others to cleanse and remember the joy that daily trudging dilutes. I want to make a difference with my writing. I want people to read what I write and go "a-HA!! - i know what she means!" those golden moments of recognition....
And i know that the only way I can ever make a difference in the world that way is to let go and create some real time in my life to gather the crop I've been growing for over half a century of living....to become a farmer of my life....a gatherer and a reaper..... to hang queasily on the edge of what I know and trust that what I don't know will not kill me, but make me smarter and sharper and stronger and more useful. Too much of everything dulls perspective and deadens the senses...constant swimming tires the arms....one must float for a while, every so often...and trust that a bit of sinking is not a bad thing.
It's odd that as much as i love words, the only ones I know are in the English language....when there are so many other languages with more words than I can even begin to fathom the richness of...
And orange is my new favorite color. ...cannot seem to get enough of it...and am eating fresh oranges in the morning as well, in an effort to infuse my soul with sunshine and vitamin C.
I am going away to the West Coast in late November.
A lengthy series of days away from my normal life here....and i can hardly stand the need to wait for that Pacific Ocean! I am happy to have been granted my vacation request, and also a little scared to be away from this grind and from my darling husband for that long.....we become slaves to our captors, I've read....not that Peter is a captor...he is the love of my life and I adore him....but we have such an intense way of living here, so deeply entrenched in our beloved duties in the name of Art...it feels odd to contemplate the letting go of those duties...the putting those duties 2000 miles away from my clutching grasp...the perspective -restoring act of placing myself , on purpose, so far away from the familiar.....feels sort of odd. But I am glad for it.
There is no real danger in it. Just an imagined one, in my tired and over-worked brain.
i yearn to write. To write well. To produce some art that will help me and others to cleanse and remember the joy that daily trudging dilutes. I want to make a difference with my writing. I want people to read what I write and go "a-HA!! - i know what she means!" those golden moments of recognition....
And i know that the only way I can ever make a difference in the world that way is to let go and create some real time in my life to gather the crop I've been growing for over half a century of living....to become a farmer of my life....a gatherer and a reaper..... to hang queasily on the edge of what I know and trust that what I don't know will not kill me, but make me smarter and sharper and stronger and more useful. Too much of everything dulls perspective and deadens the senses...constant swimming tires the arms....one must float for a while, every so often...and trust that a bit of sinking is not a bad thing.
It's odd that as much as i love words, the only ones I know are in the English language....when there are so many other languages with more words than I can even begin to fathom the richness of...
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