Recent events on a global, local and personal level, including some hard news about an elder family’s member declining health had left me with an uncharacteristic feeling I could not identify. This piece from writer Jennifer Bowman unraveled the darkness and gave it a name. Now I have a reference point for moving forward. On this morning of the Vernal Equinox I am ready to stop postponing life; I intend to start living joy every single day.
Chimpanzee contemplates nature of life, thinks “Well, shit.”
My mother is always the first to notice when I’m not writing. “February 5 was your last post,” she pointed out during lunch last week. I appreciate this. She notices.
In that vein, I want to dispense with one issue upfront: It has been suggested (not by my mother) that the occasional long gaps between my posts indicate I’m insufficiently “serious” about writing. I always despaired a little at that, because it felt unfair. At the same time, I always feared it was true.
But I’ve found that when we interrogate the assumptions behind our fears, and follow the what-if trail to its conclusion, we can find clarity. And I’ve realized it is true. There are many things I take more seriously than writing. Understanding, feeling, processing, life, and honesty are all more important to me than simply stringing words together. These things…
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