I have been too long away from writing.
There was a time that does not seem so long ago, when I both read and wrote with gusto and abandon. A time when having three books and two magazines going, all while studying for a class,, working a full time job, and starting what I was sure would be the next Great American Novel, (yes, I always thought about in capitalized letters) was just the normal pace of the universe. A time when my children were always underfoot, my profession was demanding, my sight unsullied, and my enthusiasm flowed effortlessly into everything I was party to.
While it only seems like weeks, or perhaps months at most since I zoomed about with the energy and enthusiasm of youth, the reality is that the time is more honestly measured in years, or even decades. My children are grown with children of their own who I cannot keep up with, and my attention, while as easily diverted as always no longer seems to have the ability to jump effortlessly between half a dozen reading and writing projects at will. Such, I suppose, is the price of middle age.
On the other hand, growing older does have its benefits. While I am less likely to be involved in the whirlwind of activity I remember, I am also less likely to allow my impulsive nature to cause harm to those I love. I may not juggle a dozen books and projects, but the two or three I do manage get more attention, and produce higher quality results. Overall, not a bad trade off, and besides, getting older most certainly beats the alternative!
So here I set, nearing the time when one day becomes another, waiting for medicine I should have taken hours ago to take effect, and meandering about growing older, in part bitching about my all too human frailties, and the dealing with the consequences of a misspent youth, and still accepting just how good my life really is. I have in my slave a woman who adores me, who has devoted herself to me in a way few understand, who labors every day to make my life a better place to be. On top of the bio family, I mentioned earlier, I now have a chosen family. They both look to me for wisdom and guidance, and still manage to remind me when I start getting a little above myself, normally with a gentle nudge, but if a club is required… well, let’s allow that one to lie quietly in the corner until its needed. I have brothers and sisters, both capitalized and not, who I can call on for help and guidance when I am lost or needy, and who know they can call on me as well. I have the big sister I always wanted, and who says she wants to be just like me when she grows up, yet shares her strength and wisdom when mine fails. I have apprentices and journeymen working on my behalf to make our community a better place, and it seems hardly a week goes by without at least one request for me to speak, or teach, or share the benefit of my pain with others. I have a life filled with those who need me, and whom I need. The Universe has blessed me, and for all of that I am grateful.
However, let us return to my opening proposition. I have been too long away from writing, and furthermore, I miss it. I miss the careful logic that I derive from using the part of my brain that thinks in written symbols rather than audible sound. I miss the feel of the pen in my hand, and the sound of the paper rustling as my thoughts take tangible form. I even miss the typing and editing, although perhaps a bit less that the more creative bits. I am going to try to do better. Writing makes me more organized, and the Universe knows I could use some more of that. Writing makes me a more effective communicator; almost everyone I know could stand being a more effective communicator. (I only said almost to keep the universe from seeing the statement as a dare!) I could go on, but let us sum things up by saying that writing seems to make me a better me. I am going to try this blogging idea, maybe if I know that somewhere there is someone reading what I write, it will help to motivate me to keep it up. I suspect that although I will post these meanderings at several places, I will discover the one that works best for me soon, and stop updating all but one. In the meanwhile, be patient with me as I try to renew my love affair with the written word, I am doing my best, and that is all anyone can ask.