I sit on the Love Chair on our porch and I prepare to write. Writing is a need of mine. It helps me connect mind with soul. In certain moments it facilitates healing. Here I am, and so I’ll begin.
As if in keeping with the script, the seat in which I’m positioned is suddenly cast in shade from threatening clouds. It’s true; rain was predicted for today. Perhaps I should have known better than to expect the sun to shine two days consecutively; yet I like the idea of trying my luck. And anyway, if the sky should open I can always move inside, right? No place or point in time is forever.
I am sipping champagne and I’m conscious of the irony of it all. There is nothing glaringly obvious to celebrate, but I can surely find something worthy on the Sunday afternoon of a long weekend. Cheers to being alive, healthy and loved.
Today there is a relative state of peace within when it comes to my feelings. Just because I can’t find the words to describe them in a public arena, it doesn’t mean they’re indescribable. It simply means that I haven’t mastered the art of writing nakedly. I still think of who might “see” me, and that is stifling to me as a writer.
When I hear people say, “I have reached the point in my life where I don’t care what people think of me”, I wonder, Really? How do you do that? How do you love others without caring what they think? Your family, friends, neighbours and colleagues… How do you not give a rat’s for their opinions of you?
Tomorrow I begin a writing course with Gotham Writers. Perhaps in this forum I’ll learn the confidence to pen openly, without consideration of my audience’s reaction. It sounds feasible and right, to write with honest expression. But to be true in this very moment, I find it difficult to believe that I will ever feel free to an extent where I express without fear of persecution.
On this level of honesty, can two planes meet and still respectfully be friends?
It’s getting cold on the Love Chair. The clouds have turned a darker shade of grey and opened to shed rain. There’s been so much of it in our lovely city over recent days that parts of Adelaide are flooding.
I am flooding, with tears and feelings I can’t put into words. But I am grateful for abundance.
Both floods will subside. And I can always move inside, right?
No place or point in time is forever. Nor shall this be.