I haven't written for a year.
I had planned a huge writing project surrounding my reading about the metaphysical. But I resisted and resisted writing.
It's difficult to engage and to process. It's easier (for me) to simply act. For me action is literally physical. I run. I work in the garden. I fold laundry and unload the dishwasher. I listen to books as I work and then list what I've read to chart the reading I've accumulated. I add to my daylily database. I take pictures of my garden to prove to myself that I am productive. I shovel manure at the animal sanctuary and think to myself, "I have done something."
I think about learning to meditate, but don't.
I think about doing yoga, but don't.
I think about writing, but don't.
Today is the day that changes. Today I begin. Last night I was in crisis, but now I can see a glimmer --a rising sun on the very tip of the horizon. This sun needs to be coaxed to fully rise, and I need to be the power, the force, the life that enables it to rise. It is not the light of the world--but the light I need to cast onto my child, who needs me, and whom I haven't yet successfully helped.
