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that’s what Natalie Goldberg, my favorite of all time writer gurus says, just write.  Just do it, man.  or in my case, woman.  Put pen to paper.  Finger tips to keyboard.  Pencil to cardboard.  Fingers to the air.  Just do it.  Right now.  Right here.  No excuses.  No stopping.  No monkey mind.   That’s what Goldberg calls that part of our brain that distracts us and pulls us right and left up and down and then all zig zaggy.  When all the time, our original intention was to sit down and write out a page or two or ten or the poem of our life.

This Saturday evening, I am attending a Literary Salon.  Sounds fancy, huh?  At least it does to me.  I joined a local writer’s group earlier this year, it could have been last year, it was in the dark months of winter that much I remember.  I am not much of a joiner in the way of joining groups.  I used to be.  A joiner of political groups.  I railed against all sorts of human injustices and fought hard for human and individual rights for a long long time.  And then I grew weary.

Back to my current subject of the fancy sounding upcoming Literary Salon.  I am excited.  Nervous.  But more excited.  The event is being held at someone’s home whom I have never met.  And here’s the really cool and brave part, I volunteered to read some of my writing.   The organizers were looking for 10 volunteers to read 5 minutes of their work.  Since most of my essays are more than two pages long, I quickly decided to read a few selections from my body of erotica poetry.  That is, until I spoke with the main organizer who informed me that there will be children present.  Good to know.  So onto Plan B.  or Actually C.

I have chosen four other poems to read and have been practicing the timing of the reading and introduction to the pieces to fit within the five minute allotment.  Five minutes goes by really fast!

This will be good for me.  Meeting other writers.  Being inspired by their work in progress.  Sharing a part of myself that has been dormant for far too long.

So I have returned to my roots and busted out my beloved guru’s books, Writing Down the Bones and Wild Mind.  They have inspired me for many years and continue to remind me of my first love ~ words, writing and the telling of stories.  Utter bliss.  Just write.  So right.

Get ready

Get set

Not ready, yet.

Just the other day, which at this stage of my life can mean a couple of weeks or months ago, I realized that if I were to die in that moment I would not feel ready to take my leave of this life time.  This realization arrived with no small surprise.  You see, I have spent big chunks of energy, time, effort, imagination and sheer will power to keep my precarious hold to this earthly planet.  And that is not to speak of my multiple beseechings of the Universal Powers to alternately open my eyes to the wonders that this life has to offer or to take me quickly to another place, another planet, another existence or to simply extinguish my flickering flame altogether. 

I have struggled with varying gradations of melancholy and depression as far back as my memories travel.  Years of spiritual searching and guidance seeking ~frequent findings and losings of faith ~ years worth of various therapies ~ book after book of helping myself books read, re-read, dog-eared and cursed ~ multiple sundry eating plans, herbs and self-medication, followed by much self castigation with equal amounts of guilt for being so un-grateful for life’s abundance.  

Scattered amongst this turmoiled angst, moments and sometimes days of brightened mood.  Such a welcome respite in a choppy sea of deep blue and inky black depths.  

A certain thought has cropped up now and then of ‘if I were to die right now… .”  The thought  followed by a variation of ‘it wouldn’t be a moment too soon’  or ‘a perfect moment to leave.’  So one might understand a bit more the surprise, the startle if you will, that I felt with that initial response of ‘no, I am not ready.’  Not ready to leave this life, my life, in this moment.  As I have mulled over this new response, which has remained, I have come to understand that my life feels more precious to me than in the past.  Many other realizations have crystallized as the marinading of this new experience continues. 

Today though I wanted to share that I am here.  I am alive.  I am not ready to leave.  I am living.

My life is fixing to be full up with new things right about tomorrow and the rest of this calendar week. New place to lay my head (figuratively speaking, since I am working on almost two months of sleeping upright) and new place to spend my days as I begin a new job tomorrow. I will be sure to stay grounded by keeping my commitment to post daily in this little blog.

Has anybody else read the children’s book Rabbit Hill? I loved that book as a child and I still love the book in my adulthood. In this book, the animals that live near a house are all filled up with gossip about the new folks who are moving in. The animals wonder if the new folks will be planting folk, as in planting a new garden or if they will put out good garbage for them to forage through.

Whenever I think of doing something new, I think of Rabbit Hill and the animals’ refrain of new folks comin’.

Thought I’d share that tidbit ~ while I prepare to have lots of new things in my life.

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