I've been told more times than I care to count that I think too much. Shannon told me, after reading one of my 'better' attempts at poetry, that everything I wrote was depressing. Perspective. I thought I was deep. Profound perhaps, insightful. My dear sweet critic, whose favorite author was Stephen King, thought I needed to 'lighten up'. Quite a commentary on perceptions.
Since my first post to this blog in August of 2008, I have been on a roller coaster 'write'. I think they call it 'finding your writer's voice'. My best ideas seem to surface in the middle of the night or in the bath tub and I'm either too tired or too wet to capture them.
I do remember waking in the night last night with my gratitude list scrolling across my mind's eye... Thank you for the feel of crisp white Shabby Chic sheets, thank you for the whisper of Chanel 5 and Old Spice, thank you for the lingering fragrance of hot buttered wheat toast, thank you for the familiar and ordinary moments in my life. I would have been happy just to be grateful for a good night's sleep.
Last weekend I attended a workshop, "Manifesting your dreams in 2012". Everyone hoping for something, a new job, a new love, a new car, a new outlook, a clean bill of health, a bigger house. I asked, "Is it against some universal law... if I have everything...to manifest for someone else?" And of course the answer was "YES". We each have a path. We each have lessons. We can offer love and hope and prayer and support through those difficult times, but apparently we thwart another's progress if we interfere uninvited. So... I tried during the course of the day, to discover what it is I want to "manifest" in this life.
A fellow searcher asked me what I would do if money wasn't an issue. I said that I would write, but I questioned whether or not I had anything to say that anyone would be interested in reading. His advice ? "Write! Even if you think it's all been said before, it hasn't been said by you."
If I write what is in my heart it may be perceived as 'depressing'. Shannon knew me better than anyone and that was often her perception even though she knew I wasn't depressed. If I try to 'lighten up', as I did writing about my job... if feels contrived and unsatisfying.
You know that line in the song The Story, " these stories don't mean anything when you've got no one to tell them to"(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJ4I4tLQI1k), well that's the way I feel. I'm not sure that I have anything worth sharing but my stories must mean something and that has to include you, the someone to tell them to.
Most of our lives are intertwined. We eat, sleep, laugh, cry, work, get angry, worry, love, inquire, discuss, remember and dream. Why is it then, that so often we feel that we are making this trip alone? That no one knows how we feel or could be this stupid, or afraid, or forgetful or misunderstood. It is in being as open and honest as I know how that I find you and we can laugh or cry together, either way, we have someone to hold on to. Someone who is as fragile as a butterfly's wing and as strong as a towering oak. Someone like me only different.
Thirty eight years ago, I was given a gift beyond compare. Fourteen years ago, I received another. I'm not sure why I was so blessed but in the days and weeks and months ahead, I will revisit the moments along the way that broke me open and allowed me time to put the pieces back together. I hope there will be clarity and meaning in the discovery....maybe for each of us.
Since Shannon returned to Heaven, I have been Humpty Dumpty trying desperately to put those damn pieces back together again. They don't always fit and I don't look the same but to lay around in a puddle of broken pieces and egg yolk is unacceptable.
I really like Thomas Edison's encouragement... "Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time. "
To know the ending
Might keep me from beginning
How sad would that be?
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