This last week I have pondered. I noticed the stars in the dark clear night sky. I was transported to a time in the past when friends would wander to silent places to lay gazing above excitingly bantering about the future which seemed as open as the universe splayed before us. I wanted to write. It felt right. But I came inside and slid into the warmth of my electric blanket, gathered up my laptop and drifted off to sleep with Toshiba buzzing at my side. I love my electric blanket. My daughter's gave it to me for a Christmas present this year. They understood the gap created by my Los Angeles sensibilities intersecting with New England winters. The next day, I had another moment and then again the next day. Each time I fought against sitting down and working out the words, coaxing the phrase, pulling the focus to create. So the surging inspiration was thwarted by my inability to recognize the import of these "instincts."
I battle in my writer moments with expressing the multiplicitous plot points scripted in the macabre-- encapsulating my pulse. Filled with scenes I so desire to live out. The disappointment made greater realizing the brevity of the incarnations sent in slumber is all that is to satisfy the insatiable desire to act out.
When inevitability meets faith...I meet you again, my sworn enemy. I will not succumb to your darkness even as you swallow me whole. I stand firmly entrenched in the belief that after, after your gluttonous devouring of all that was never yours, I will stand victorious.
Today is the 24rd. 13 1/2 days and...
Put this in our bag of tricks: Victory does not come without sacrifice.
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