The greatest need of our time is to clean out the enormous mass of mental and emotional rubbish that clutters our minds. – Thomas Merton
My mind is a magpie collecting bits and pieces of shiny things from all corners of my world. They glitter and shine in the afternoon light, no matter that they are simply debris of broken glass or twisted metal from a car wreck. It twinkles and glows in my peripheral vision and I sweep it up and hold it dear. My mind is full of such flotsam and jetsam.
Today, I want to write. Really write. I want to print out my novel-in-progress and attack it with a yellow highlighter and red pen. I want to figure out the damn timeline and people’s ages once and for all. I want to wallow in words.
I want to rewrite what’s been written to make it punchy and vibrant. I want my readers to crave the next page if only to consume more quirkiness.
In short, I want my brain to soar like my main character Laynie’s does when she is deep into transcription:
Deep into it, fingers flying, right and left brains soaring, Latinate language free-falling in pixels to magnetic medium, Laynie. . .
Even when I’m telling and not showing, I want to get away with it through choice of language and strength of character.
Continue readingI always wanted to skydive.
Really.
I had plans to do so with a friend, but dammit all, she had the temerity to get herself killed in a motorcycle accident before we could execute the plan.
She was quite an inspiration in my life and I was just never able to bring myself to do the skydiving thing without her. And then in my late 30s, my chiropractor asked me, “Do you ski?” I said No. And he said, “Good. Don’t take it up.” And then I said, “I suppose that means skydiving is out too.”
The look on his face. Apparently, he was terrified of flying. You would have thought I’d suggested he remove a testicle or something. “Oh, God, no. No. No skydiving.”
And so, it’s a want that will forever be unfulfilled and I find myself mourning the loss. How many other I always wanted tos am I not going to be able to do?
Getting old sucks.
Continue readingToday, I will be The April Fool and declare a new beginning. The winter of my discontent is over. Has to be over. I am weary of trudging and want to skip. Tired of standing, want to dance. Sick of worry, want to be fearless.
Today is that day.
I will let the high winds of today clean out the debris and clear my head of the toxic build-up of the past years. The rains will clear the dust. Spring cleaning of a sort – more like a pressure wash with the torrents of late.
I will let my little dog frolic as I skip along and ignore her yelps when she warns me of the cliff. I need to fall off this cliff I’ve been perched on like some hermit sitting on a mountain. I am the seeker; I am not the teacher. The sage. The prophet.
The waterlogged hillside may collapse spilling me onto a road I’ve never been on. The change might do me good. Another meaning for winning by a landslide.
I may have to skip through some mud. My inner child will be delighted to splash in the puddles. I’ll get dirty. A hot bath will be a solace. I will be weary and sleep the sleep of the innocent. I will.
The future is bright, my outlook is rosy, and I’m determined to make it so. As it is written, so let it be done.
W. Va. Fur and Root 