Is anyone else feeling a bit . . . sensitive? Early on, Cameron said something about emotional volatility, but I didn’t think: me. I didn’t think: raw.
I had forgotten that writing began, for me, in a difficult and painful time. Now, those memories and feelings come back to me. And not just those — memories and feelings from very long ago.
No offense to those youngsters out there who have taken on this challenge, but I don’t want to be twenty again. Well, maybe physically, but in no other way. I want peace, calm, surety in my days. Manageable affections. Acceptance of what is.
A big synchronicity to report this week — but first, the more mundane.
Cameron says, Some of you may be thinking that this sounds like the magic-wand chapter — and it does, to me. But not altogether. This resonated for me:
Dependence on the creator within is really freedom from all other dependencies. Paradoxically, it is also the only route to real intimacy with other human beings. Freed from our terrible fears of abandonment, we are able to live with more spontaneity. Freed from our constant demands for more and more reassurance, our fellows are able to love us back without feeling so burdened.
And this:
Recovery is the process of finding the river and saying yes to its flow, rapids and all.
And this:
For an artist, withdrawal is necessary. Without it, the artist in us feels vexed, angry, out of sorts. If such deprivations continues, our artist becomes sullen, depressed, hostile . . . An artist requires the upkeep of creative solitude.
Of course, one must be able to distinguish between creative solitude and sullen solitude.
I tried to implement my lesson of last week, by planning a grocery trip, with a sit-down at the deli afterwards. A new lesson: grocery shopping is a lot more tiring than pet supply shopping, even at a really cool store. I’m not familiar with the store, and mostly just felt large, awkward, clumsy, and stupid. I was too tired to really enjoy the food or the sit-down once the groceries were loaded in my car. But I won’t have to do it again for weeks.
So much for trying to combine an artist date with major errands.
But this week I will go to hear Linda Hogan speak on A Spiritual History of the Living World. Linda is a friend, with whom (as with many others) I’ve not been good at keeping touch. A few days ago, on an impulse, I googled her. This is what I found.
Just a few days later, and I would have missed her. I didn’t even wave a wand.
I am so excited to see her. And if you don’t know her work, you are missing something really wonderful. Don’t keep missing it.
I am feeling frustrated with the stricture to not go back and read our morning pages. My journal has always been where poem seeds sprout, and I can’t go search for them. Another three weeks. I don’t know why I’m following these rules so strictly. I guess, I said I’d do the program, so I’m doing it.
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