there are so many voices to be heard on this earth, and i’m just one more. originally from canada, i now live in what i euphemistically call “palmtreeland,” a place of flying palmetto bugs and zipping lizards, beautiful beaches that i no longer visit, terrifying hurricanes, high humidity, fierce thunderstorms, alligators in rivers, and really good seafood in restaurants. i have always wanted to be a creative writer but i became entangled in the world of ‘making a living’ and i let this part of me slide into last place in the great scheme of living. that’s a sad thing, but it’s never too late to fix things, so they say.
Sister,
How did I find you? Providence must have lead me to you. I see your words and feel their meaning as they touch the truth inside me.
I wander as you. I have done as you. I let go my soul to do all the responsible things. Now is my time and I’m trying to fix what I had left broken far too long.
It is never too late!
Miss Demure Restraint
thank you for your comment, miss demure restraint (what an interesting name).
right now i’m trying to be brave and let my spirit have its say in this world. i find the constraints of keeping a roof over my head and food in the belly hard to navigate around my wanting to be creative, and only that. i really hope it’s not late to fix things. i’m now more than halfway through my life, so i guess i should get this show on the road.
I hope you don’t mind but I’ve tagged you for a memoir meme.
http://weboflove.wordpress.com/2008/02/26/memoir-meme/
I’m very new at this. I’m unsure of what I’m doing and whether I’m doing it right. Please feel free to ignore it if you like.
Miss D
I don’t mind at all. I’m new at this stuff too. The only trouble is that I don’t know 5 other people with blogs to tag. Will I get thrown off the planet if I don’t do this part of it?
Have a nice day !
Its hard, isnt it! It?
The idea that there is ever more. The idea that it is not ever going to ‘click’. It?
In foggy offs, we know of them. Them? The people! The couples. The houses. The jobs! Those we held as weak … somehow replaced and made expire their comparative status…into better! While we sit, ashamedly impressed and taken by the idea of our weakness. Of our place.
Yes, its hard! To arrive and do your own dishes. To leave, and not take the trash with you. To wake up and make your own bed. Maybe harder, not make it. To come home empty-handed and hearted. Seemingly enslaved to an unchangeable frame of mind. A string of broken imagery that takes from us our most immediate powers. The ‘doing’ hasnt been done.
Its difficult to be the person we did and do not want to be. To crave changes that seem never to come.
Difficult to be given opportunities that we invariably reject on the notion that they are not right. Not right for us. Difficult because as we may wrongly consider ourselves through our social surroundings, we confusingly attack ourselves through the idea that we should feel guilt. Guilt for not having embraced what others have; and what others have seemingly found better in as a result.
The lower rungs are, an adjective I always thought twice about using as a younger man, hard, at times!
An adjective I abstained from using through me now freely flows as I sit describing the strange and most cultural proform ‘it’… on some webpage somewhere… trying to say, we are here, too. We understand, relate and know. We do!
Even as writing becomes our sitting masterpiece, as it brings to us something that was by others, seemingly long-ago found… even this can be hard. Hard like, is it going to work? Hard like, is it right? Hard like, is it real? Hard like, it seems so fractured as a grounds upon which we could easily and longly rest, confidently appreciative, proud, and ever-strong. The adjective returns again, and again and again.