I jot notes everywhere – on scraps of paper, on the notepad on my iPhone and iPad, and in numerous other applications and software. Words are strewn everywhere and nowhere. Thoughts unfold quickly, then recoil into a ball like a pillbug that’s been touched.
Is it fear that interrupts my train of thought? Fear that I’m empty, with nothing worthwhile to say? Or fear that my words are like a landslide, once released, there is all that clean up to do. Revision… I hate revision.
I have been pondering what to write for this post for about a week now. So rather than try to create cohesive paragraphs that make sense, I welcome you to the jungle of my jottings because right now, this is the best I can do…
“I am the keeper of memories. If I let go, if I forget, it’s as though nothing ever happened, because no one who was there then, is here now.”
“Repent Maery. Get up and get moving. ‘Blech,’ says my body, before it unwillingly obeys.”
“When the nurse at my doctor’s appointment asked if I’d felt sad, hopeless, or depressed lately, I burst into laughter. Every time I opened my mouth to answer her, all that came out was a guffaw! I finally replied, ‘I’m fine. I’m fine,’ accented with a tight, manic smile. The nurse crunched up her eyebrows, put her hand on my shoulder and asked, ‘Are you sure?’”
“Whisking through words that I know need more massaging. I’ve got to get it done on time! When I look up from my screen, it’s like surfacing after swimming as far as I could go underwater. My eyes struggle to adjust from staring at a flat screen, to take in objects and people around me with their 3-dimensional depths and movement. My body creaks to a stand as though I’ve been sleeping on the cold ground. I almost teeter, knees achy, trying to return to my body and make it walk. All this would be fine if I was writing a novel, but no, I am writing a quick reference guide.”
“Only a nine hour work day, then off to yoga to unwind the shaking hands, the racing heart. Like stretching a bow tight and holding it. Until the arms start to quiver. And the string presses into fingers. Leaving a visible mark.”
“A weekend should be blurry. It should rock you like a small boat, side to side, each wave gentle nudging a lap song. Can you hear it? Ka chrrr. Ka chrrr.”
“If you need to pause, you need a break, then stop before proceeding. And if you need to do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around, you can do that too. Perhaps a rolling stop is more your style. But if you know that you are approaching a stoplight that only lets two or three cars through before it turns red again and when it turns red, it stays red for a very long time, and it is turning yellow and you know the timing so well because you’ve passed this way a million times before, then don’t hesitate. Go for it. You unstoppable, outlaw, you!”
I know, it’s scary isn’t it? The point is, do what you can in this moment and know that it is enough and that all those enoughs add up to a collective BIG THING. Or so I keep telling myself…
*** Cross-posted in Vision and Verb ***