Today I ate too much. Well not so much the quantity, just the concoction of items. I must be eight years old, back to the one day when you were allowed to eat all the wrong things, while someone wiser, hopes that you will learn not to mix your foods.
Pulled pork, red wine and chocolate cake may not be the appropriate food
to settle a nervous stomach - it is however great for realizing that change is required in your life.
My world has tumbled and I have no current role to play for anyone. All my attention can, is, sometimes, focused just on me. Time to heal, calm, listen and grow. One step forward, two buttons fixed and a new way to wear a scarf. I'm trying to re create and paint on a canvass that is not blank.
I can pretend along with the best of them, yet the emptiness can bury me in the lack of a heartbeat.
I'm reading "This Time I Dance" from Tama Kieves. I have nearly bought this book many times before and I'm pleased that I waited until now. It's tagline is: For every person who has yearned to find their true work in the world. I love this book.
It's the perfect timing for me to consider following my heart's desire regarding work. That is not to put down anything I have been doing. It is to embrace a dream with the support of valued experiences.
My inner critic, Agnes is howling with laughter. Everything she wears is purple and velvet, with feathers. Her eyes are green, heavy with mascara and her mouth grew with a cigarette attached to its lip.
"Go on say it," she barks. "Tell them what you want."
"I want to write, again." I say, like a cannibal offering her own hand.
Agnes laughs so much she knocks herself off my shoulder, landing, blissfully, into her glass of scotch.
So that's kind of where I am today. Eating the wrong things yet, possibly, thinking the right things.
At least for now.
Agnes, I have more to write than just the parking ticket I received today.
And so we begin..............................................