...a way of seeing beyond inner and outer.

Monday, November 8, 2010

"Write your book."

Those were my mother's words to me after reading this blog.  Since her email last week I haven't been blogging because I'm thinking about what she said. The book was started last year and my notebooks are filled with plot thread, time lines and the character who I've come to know. Still their story is not finished and I'm finally tired of being "the starter".  I'm going to finish it and honestly, I couldn't care less if no one ever reads it. Even if the only thing that ever comes of it is a day when I sit in a room by myself in front of a stack of papers that represent a shift from an uncommitted dalliance with something I know I can do but won't to something I could do and did. When that happens I will know it's a gift, if not to the world, then to me from the Source of every good gift and every perfect present, but as much as I want the end, it isn't really the point. It's engaging in the dance of creation. Every day. As a meditation, as a sabbatical from "didn't finish", from "could". I'm going to finish, then I'm going to finish something else, and then something else again, and then another something else and I'm going to start practicing now.

"The End."


  1. My hubby says the same thing to me-- of course, I have never started a book. Good for you for getting back to yours. Hope you don't stop blogging though-- it is just a creative way of journaling but still good for the soul, don't you think.

  2. I do, Lesa. I've learned more about myself by blogging than I had in years of journaling. Something about putting it out there makes me accountable to myself in ways a private journal never did. Scary good.

  3. love you all for the encouragement. i am. i promise. to you all and me all.


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