I feel like I said everything I could ever want to say, ever, in one post.
In which I am practicing was one of them. Now, I keep sitting down to write again, but I’ve already said it all. I feel like I opened a vein with that one, and now I’m just plain spent.
(I kind of want to perform it, like a spoken word poet, on a street corner or a theatre stage.) (I am not a performer. Or a poet.)
A reader made this little graphic of a few lines, and hung it up in her office. Thanks to Designers Coast Studios for this.
And thank you to all of you who shared it and passed it around and posted the link on Facebook and Twitter and email.
I’m home from a soul-sisters weekend away, the first weekend away since I was early pregnant with Joseph. That time feels a bit like holy ground. I suppose I’m processing that, in a way, so maybe that is part of my lack of writing mojo.
It was harder to be away from the tinies than I expected (and filled me some worry about how we will manage Haiti), so I’m breathing them in, sleeping in a big family bed jumble, doing laundry, restoring order, listening, playing, that sort of thing.
We have a busy few weeks ahead of us as a family, filled with travel and guests and life.
I need to work on my book, too. (Riiiiiiight.)
But I keep sitting down to write, and all I can think is: I don’t want to desecrate beauty with cynicism. Not anymore.
I said everything I wanted to say for a while now, and so I just want to sit in that for another day or two, and breathe.