so close. so close. and i filled the very last page in my notebook this morning. i wanted it to last me all the way to the end of december but i got on a hot streak and fill a minimum of 6 pages every morning. i'll just shove some loose paper in the back and keep on writing, writing, writing all the way until the ritual ends.
today i was thinking about the difference between needs and desires... and how some desires are so strong, so based in personal values and ethics that even if they aren't needs in the survival sense of the word, they are still very real necessities. i'm trying to make distinctions between what i find to be necessary to my life and practice, and what i've been told or taught to expect of these things. it is a squirrely, winding thing. but good and worthwhile. i'm making lists. i'm reading the work of people i admire. i'm trying to learn from them, their work, their bravery. i'm feeling kind and easy and sweet. and very very lucky.
4 comments:
I'm not, but I'm happy for you.
Yesterday though, for a few fleeting moments, I too felt lucky. I often do.
I often have such optimistic moments then something happens - it can be quite small - to shatter them. I have to start all over again then to build up the optimism.
But too much optimism is not a great thing, not always.
It's the tough stuff that fuels my writing - the grief, the sorrow, the rage, the anger. Happiness which comes by regularly does not add to my treasure trove of words.
It's also the stuff of silences, the unspeakable, the forbidden, the hidden that gets me going. Hence my fascination with your blog: your beautiful writing, wonderful images and all those masked mouths.
i long to feel 'easy and sweet'
your writing feels so honest.
elisabeth- you comment reads like a poem. :)
it is definitely the tough things, the uncomfortable things, and the heart-breaking dissatisfactions and losses that fuel the majority of my work. the huge saddness that i feel i was born with a lot of the time. and these things, surprisingly, are also where hope grows for me. learning their corners in the (naive?) hope of understanding them, making them impossible to continue, or at very least as a way to offer up my shoulder to others who know these things too. the masked mouth especially.
i agree with you that "happiness which comes by regularly does not add to my treasure trove of words". the strange thing is that i only work when i'm happy. when i feel alert and willing and honest. or maybe the work itself is what makes me happy... an exorcism... a voice being found.
i'm dedicating a lot of time lately to veiwing our abilities (art, writing, thoughtful thinking, compassion) as luck. hard luck, as it may be.
i'll glad you found my little blog. :)
maggie may-
it feels good. finally! it's been such a long time since i could say something like that and have it be the truth. it comes and goes but, for the first time in a couple years, those feelings are staying longer and longer. stretches of good days where i feel hopeful and happy. such small things give me such huge hopes, huge happinesses. they don't wave their arms and yell for attention. i have to go find them. i have to look. and as soon as i make that decision, they seemed to be all around me. your comment brings me a lightness and a joy.
these feelings are new and bright and i'm sometimes afraid i'll lose them.
thank you for coming here. i'm trying my hardest to be honest in the writing. your honesty and writing give me a greater courage. the list of letters on your blog floored me. :) beautiful.
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