Forever Young: 10/24/12

Blog Manifesto

This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Seeking Passion and Joy to replace what I've lost in my own life.

So recently in the past few weeks at home, I've been struggling with low feelings and lots of tears and regrets.

which sucks.

I've been crying throughout the day and night at odd times, it's killing my body to feel all these emotions. My muscles ache and I just droop, broken.

I"m broken.

I went out into the garage and sat for a while after a bout of crying and looked over in a cupboard. There was one of my precious favorite mugs, set out there, in pieces, not just cracked, but smashed with chips.

It was given to me ages ago, from a dear internet friend who used to talk with me every day twice a day. She sent me the mug from NYC, after we got our dear boy adopted from foster care.

It was a beautiful black boy laying in a bed of flowers with animals surrounding him in love. There were sweet bunnies on him.    She had a bunny as a dear pet and the mug meant something very special to us both.

People are more important than things. I know this. This is my mantra.

Dan broke this mug and put it into the garage to hide it from me. He did this a year ago. A year ago?

...

I just looked at it.   No amount of super glue is going to restore that thing.

It was so ..so appropriate to what I have been struggling with.

Both the pieces and the hiding. I wish Dan had come to me the day he broke it and let me have it in my hands to decide what to do about it. Hiding it was lying about it, and that sucks.

So anyway I am going to be writing about passion and joy.   I realized a few minutes ago, what I was doing all this week and last I was looking for it.