This is when the risk is big. When things are feeling better and easier. The temptation to not do these is huge. Sabotage ? Maybe. Or just laziness. Wanting to get to the projects. But here I am so yay. Not expecting for things to get very deep this morning. Not that they have to. Just noticing that in the last couple of days I’ve hit some big things in these pages and of course the desire to continue hitting big things is there. But acceptance is what it’s all about. Acceptance of the shitty first drafts. Have been rereading pretty much all of my books on writing. From writing down the bones to bird by bird and the fabulous a continuous mistake. Read all the passages on writer’s block etc etc.
I feel like these pages keep turning into journaling. And I am wanting to stay away from that. But controlling them just makes me stuck. Control is the big issue here. Wanting certain results. Not wanting to write about certain things. Hence stifling the whole thing. I’ve been posting excerpts to my public journal and though I am not sure who reads (if anyone) , it certainly is affecting me. Then I make myself remember that if anyone reads, it is of their own volition and sticking to my original goals of stream is the important thing. Or else I will stop posting these publicly if the goal starts to be “be interesting for the audience”.
I feel like I have nothing to say this morning. I keep thinking about the weekend to come… the projects, the to do list… the holidays… oh and yes, that play that I am supposed to be writing and haven’t started on. I keep wanting to read other people’s words. Trying to imprint them on my mind as if I could magically channel them onto my own pages. Keep getting stopped. Must keep the stream going. Only page 1. ack . today is hard. I might just right nothing for three pages and I better be okay with that. See the ego chastising the writer self? It becomes so obvious in these.
Why don’t I talk about the weather then… surely we can all do that. The rain has stopped. Yesterday was non stop and it was pitch black at 4:59 to be exact. Today the mountains are showing and they are already wearing their white winter coats. Lived here 14 years and never really got into the snow sports. Which I love and would love I am sure. Don’t have equipment. Don’t have appropriate clothing. It’s expensive all that. Sliding on snow sounds like a fun thing to do though. I’d like to get away to a cabin near snow this winter at some point. I love snow. I didn’t grow up around it so it has a real magical quality for me. I feel like a little kid around it. Even when it snows in the city, I get so excited. Everyone complains that it’s going to get all slushy, but I don’t care. Perhaps it’s because I don’t own a car and don’t have to drive in it. I also love it because of the disruption in everyone’s lives. I think it’s good. I think people don’t like to be reminded that the earth was here first. That the elements are stronger than us , no matter how much we try to control them. People hate having their routines disturbed, not being able to go to work. Me, I just love the excuse to cozy up on the couch with hot chocolate and a good book and glance outside once in a while at the white puffs coming down. One of my favorite memories of snow in this city goes back to a few years ago when I was in college. The school closed in the early afternoon and everyone went home. I changed my shoes, put on a good coat, hat, gloves and scarf and ventured into the completely shut down city. I walked from the hill to downtown and it was the most surreal experience. Downtown at 6pm when the place is usually so busy and loud. Completely quiet. No buses. Very few cars. Only a few pedestrians and most of the shops closing due to the snow. The snow was falling and the sky was so low, it was as if the city had taken off, detached itself from the earth and landed on a very large cloud. All the sounds muted. I walked, cozy, feeling my cheeks flushing and the flow of blood warming my body from the inside. Only the tush tush of my feet, leaving behind me the trail of all the places I had gone. Crossing other trails where others had gone. In the snow, everything that moves leaves a trace. It is such a perfect thing that when everything becomes white and muted, we are able to be seen by our tracks. A testament to our animal nature. Which, ironically, makes me feel very much like a human. I walked and passerby’s waved and smiled. Something they never do on a normal day. Which is when we actually need it more than any other day. I walked in silence. To the calming rhythm of the hah-hah of my breath. Sticking out of my hat, a few locks of hair, like tiny caramel Popsicles. The snow kept coming down and as the city filled up with the white whipped stuff, I felt my heart swell up. I could have walked forever. Admiring every familiar place, gradually dressing up. All in white. For the occasion. The steps from the market to the waterfront, the piers… the library… in a brand new scintillating coat. It was as if the entire place had become aware of its own existence. Inanimate objects suddenly taking a life of their own. Street lights awakening to a renewed purpose. Roofs. Finally having a reason for their flatness. The bus drivers… not having to feel bad for being stuck. Smoking by the side of the road, with a half smile of gratitude… welcoming the respite that nature had offered. This might be their only Christmas gift. Better to appreciate it. What can you do ? Might as well enjoy it !
Then… out of the white… there it was : my front door. How long had it been ? Which way had I taken back ? I could feel the muscles in my legs, the pumping of the blood in my chest. My eyes, opened. Even wider than usual. The itchiness on my forehead. Where the wool hat was sitting. I looked back. Two small footsteps. Taking me home.
