The WRite Life
I believed that 2022 was going to be MY year, my birthday being 02/02/2022. Not that I spend much time on numbers, or that sort of thing but I took it as a why not? It’s my turn, right? I've paid my dues.
The year started off with many difficulties. Even yesterday, after a long hard day, while driving my daughter to a walk in clinic because she hurt her knee at school, I had a moment of seeing myself in a field with bullets being shot at me, and I having to dodge the bullets to keep from being destroyed. I am not sure why the war metaphor, but this is what my mind pulled up.
Maybe you have had your share of had hard moments lately too.
I have had to be diligent with my walks, and moments outside, and breath, and sleep.
And yes, I too drink wine in the evenings.
I have also made time to work on my writing most days. It isn’t because I am obsessive, it is because my writing feeds me, offers me light and makes me believe in beauty. Reading literature, paying attention to art, listening to music does this for me as well.
Again, The Write Life, living life as a writer isn’t just writing. It is about living with purpose, experience art and beauty as a deep, daily practice.
I generally love February. It is my birthday month. There is snow on the mountains that surround my home town. Bulb flowers magically arise from the earth. I wear pink sweaters and pink lipstick. I eat candy most every day.
It has been a hard February. And yet I have felt loved by whatever you want to call the maker of the universe, God, Spirit, Energy. I have felt love from friends and family, from people on social media that I have never met.
The Greek poet wrote Ovid wrote:
Be patient and tough,
This pain will be useful to you.
Instead of asking why me, I ask what am I to learn?
Is it my year?
This is my year.
I get to write and be present.
I get to love and be loved.