A writer in motion...

I sat, ruminating on the future, breaking my pensive gaze from my frothy mug only to wince fleetingly as the tug of the past seven months dared to lure me away from the beauty of this moment. What a privilege and gift it is to be deeply loved, I thought, as I shook away the still very raw feelings of what the antithesis of this recognizance holds.

It's been so trying the past few months, wanting to connect with my readers, wanting to express my feelings in words, yet wanting to keep the wounds under wraps. I was in a literary stranglehold and, now realize that the only way to breathe again is to look toward the screen, tilt my head slightly to the left and type.

I recently remarked to a fellow wordsmith that I'd felt as though my creative and emotional outlets had been infiltrated by the influence of well-meaning friends and supporters. That, in their quest to help me regain focus and, "find myself", I'd in turn become more "lost", lost in their ideologies and emotions about what was happening in my life. I suppose, I still find my way best in silence and solitude.

Like this morning, whilst checking on my feral friends after a rough, stormy night in the valley. There was this little yellow leaf, stuck to my window. An isolated hint of beauty was the only evidence left of the tempest. It inspired the summation of where I am emotionally at this moment: shaken from my roots, displaced, clinging to hope, yet still filled with beauty and the capacity to make someone smile.

Where are you at this moment?

Peace and words

XXXVIII

Today marks the auspicious start of my thirty-eighth year. If I sound self-assured and confident, it's because I am. I have no resolutions, no bucket list, no promises to fulfill, but one: live it.

My worst fears were recognized as 2011 raced in, and as I struggled to make rhyme or reason of it all, my greatest mistake was recognized: I had stopped living and began the mundane practice of existing.

As my 37th year passes out with the stale summer wind, and the promise of a new year's revolution lies before me, I acknowledge where I went astray and mark that place in my journey as one I never intend to revisit. It was a place of futility and great angst, one of pain and shame and sadness, one of misgivings and mis-forgivings, one of self-deprecation and self-flagellation, versus self-preservation. I assume we've all been there before- like the undertaking of laboring in love or childbirth, it is the final chapter in our old lives which inevitably shapes the next story, a fresh page in herstory.

My fresh page begins here, just 11 days past my 3rd blogoversary, with a dissolved marriage just behind me, a debilitating emotional illness under aggressive treatment, a new love, a fresh promise and a birthday cake baked by my sweet Yael Rose. Life is indeed good. And, getting settled back into my writing chair is even better. I've missed you all, thanks for your continued readership and all of the messages of love and support during some of the more trying pages of my last chapter.

Peace, love and joy