Last Night of Writing Class
Right now I am trying to slow down a mind that has suddenly switched from all "let's explore our inner selves" to compulsively Type A, hyper-organized and insanely product oriented. Switching into summer work mode, I've tackled my task lists like a sumo wrestler. I feel like I've been trying to climb Mount Trashmore and organize a lifetime of accumulated trash, but with mindful awareness. Although to be fair I have leveled up from the dump pile. The stuff I'm tackling is far more sublime but just as endless, or so it seems today.
This morning I yelled at my husband after completing my morning affirmations, answered my phone twice during my 10 minute guided meditation and ran out of my hair appointment with sopping wet hair so I could make it to the last half of my 12 step meeting. I had a smoothie for breakfast and a glazed doughnut for lunch.
But at least I'm trying. Which is all so different from the haphazard, devil-may-care, fly by the seat of my pants days of yore when I jumped into everything unprepared, pre-research on gut instinct alone and then figured everything out- or not- while flying full speed ahead.
Right now I'm realizing this is my last structured night of 10 minute writing for the next 2 months and I don't know what kind of life that means I will live. Will I write at all?
Will my life become more like a checklist than a paragraph?
Will I start to suffocate under the weight of accumulated untold stories?
Will I find myself at the notebook hungry out of pure need?
I created this structure because I finally accepted that I need it but maybe too I need the seasons and cycles of hibernation- time to go within and digest in silence without attention paid to every detail and twist. I don't know yet, only that when I return I will be ready like pre-wedding ready, pre-move ready, pre-deep sea diving, cave excavation ready to lay it all out on the page again.