I don’t miss being younger, experiencing the rough stuff of youth. The fears and tears of pimples and unrequited love, the not knowing what to say or wear, or who I would be when, at some distant time and place, I’d be all grown up. Grown up. An interesting term…
I would like to thank the sun for coming through my window this morning, casting strips of shadows through the blinds and onto the floor. They were the ladder rungs I used to climb out of bed and into the bathroom.
My husband and I are making a cake. Open before us is the bible for lost souls: the Joy of Cooking. Across the countertop are the requisite ingredients (flour, sugar, baking soda and powder, eggs and salt) and various implements of destruction (measuring cups and spoons). The Joy (ha!) of Cooking makes clear the precise measurements and order of ingredients. It states, “Deviation brings disaster.”
Take a look at some of the places where I like to write. How about you? Where are your most inspiring locations? Can you tune out the voices in your local library or coffee house? Or do the conversations around you spark ideas?
I’ve got two kids, both girls, and they’re nearly eight years apart. Given their age difference, there’s little they have in common, save fighting, which they do often, most especially when our family’s on vacation and they’re forced into each other’s company. Each year, I swear I’ll never go anywhere with them again. But fool that I am, I do it anyway.
Let’s talk about the seasons: Fall, Winter, Spring and Summer. Or is it Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring? There is no official order, of course, but they are ordered nonetheless, lined up like school children. One follows the other, no pushing to get ahead.
They say youth is wasted on the young. How silly. You can’t waste what you don’t know you have: the Present. You merely live it. But we who are older and oh so much wiser, look back — or is it look down? — on the young and tsk, tsk. We see opportunities lost, the seeds of poor decisions planted in shallow ground.
The Buddha once asked a student, “If a person is struck by an arrow, is it painful?” The student replied, “It is.” The Buddha then asked, “If the person is struck by a second arrow, is that even more painful?” The student replied again, “It is.” The Buddha then explained…
Sometimes you have to pause and live in the moment. But as you grow, your writing grows.
A montage of my writing life.