It’s 12:10 aye em January 8, 2011, and I need to write something. NEED to write something that I post publicly, so I can successfully complete the promise I made to myself earlier this week when I began reading Julia Cameron’s “The Artist’s Way” and incorporating that healing in to my existence.
I realize the date stamp on this post is February 15 of last year and the “about” section boldly states that I will revisit in a year — I wrote that June 11. I don’t mean to deliberately confuse you and truthfully I sincerely doubt any one might notice anyway. I’m most of all creating a road map of my thoughts specifically for myself; you’re just lucky enough to have stumbled over.
Some of you read me when I was a Jaded Fey turned Blue Collar Goddess. Some of you found me when I was a Halifino, and some of you have been recently invited.
Ten years of blah-gging — eight of them pretty solid.
I stopped when I shut down, tuned in and then tuned out. Paradoxically, even.
My children are adults now and living as best they can in spite of my reluctance to teach them proper survival skills. I will probably invite them over to read but they will probably not. They’ve never been too interested in me, not yet anyway. And I don’t blame them, because growing up is hard work and very self centered work too. It’s difficult to be interested in others when you can barely pull yourself away from the mirror.
You couldn’t pay me to be a teenager again. Not without the tools I possess today.
The tools I have in my back pocket now have invited me to re-examine my motives, my meaning and myself. I am grateful to the divinely inspired Julia Cameron, and to my friend Ash who listened quietly for hours this past Christmas; finally — gently — suggesting that I read “The Artist’s Way” and pull my head out of my ass.
One must always have friends who can gently suggest without causing harm.
In the past seven days I have discovered childhood monsters, reasons for my bad behavior (damn good ones too) and reasons why I haven’t published one of many novels sitting in my documents. I’ve uncovered messy piles of drama that lay around my psyche like the unpacked boxes lining the book cases and walls of my new office. I have diligently written three pages of longhand whining every morning for a full week and in the midst of all this, I found an amazing woman.
“What are YOU doing here?” I demanded. She makes me uncomfortable because she’s quite smart and she understands me. Furthermore, she’s a Life Coach, deeply spiritual and difficult to con. Her spirituality is evolved, her love is authentic and her heart yearns for grace.
“You need a break. Sincerely. Express some charity for yourself.”
Later this weekend I intend to post my “Letter to the Editor” — exposing a childhood monster, completing another Artistic promise.
But for now, I have some grace and charity.
And a good start.