28 March 2014
I am here.
I am here, and I am working.
I am here, I am working, and I have rolled up my sleeves and am now elbow-deep.
I am working in the kitchen, I am working on my awareness, I am working to befriend others, I am working on my poetry.
My days are covered in words and light and salt and wind, but somehow by the end of the day, the words are all used up, and my breath is depleted.
Thanks for pointing me to Robert Creeley again. It has been a long time since I have read him:
‘Time’ is some sort of hindsight, or else rhythm of activity — e.g. now it’s 11 days later — ‘also alive’ like they say.
I can’t believe I have been here for three weeks already, and yet I feel like it has been longer. I feel like I have been here for years. Six more weeks to go, thank goodness. I’m not ready to be at the halfway point, not yet.
I watched ‘August Osage County’ today, and wrote the following reflection:
I’m thinking that Benedict Cumberbatch has the most natural singing voice I think I’ve ever heard, and I’m thinking that I would give up ever singing anything professionally just to be able to sing lullabies and ditties to my children and the ones I love. I’m thinking that my hands pause at the divide between this page and the next, because I am happy just to look upon the blank page of what is to come. I’m thinking that for the first time I am not scared or ashamed or longing or anxious. I am just in love. I am in love with my life, I am in love with people who can throw themselves so much into their work – their life’s work – that it covers over them and colors everything they do. I am thinking that I would like to be one of those people, and right here, I feel like I almost am.
I am glad to be back and writing here to you again, and there is so much more I want to tell you. This always happens when I sit down to write to you. I will be here longer, sooner, I promise. Tonight, I have the feeling of being possessed, and I just can’t stop working. This is a brief pause in between the pages, in between the drafts, in between the rolling up my sleeves and getting into it again.
I’m back in the kitchen tomorrow — it has been my day off today. But the work I do today creates its own seeds for tomorrow. And suddenly, I can see how writers create a schedule of work. I can see how it develops.
Another photo, to show you where I am. Where the clouds are just more mountains:
Even though I’m far away and distant, I’m still reading, I’m still catching up with you. I’m still here. With you.