Old Dog, New Places To Write

I’ve been quiet here most of the year, and that is mostly due to my new(ish) position at work. I’m hyper aware of what I put out into the world now and how that reflects on not only me but on my position and the organization itself.

To say that it has been stifling, is the understatement of the year.

That roadblock has been my focus. The revoked freedom of having this space as mine, for me, for my words, to expel the voices and the vitriol and share the joy and bliss of life. I felt like I was on lockdown and could only share the whimsey and the “we’re leaving on vacation and I can’t wait” posts.

You would think I could’ve just found another place to write, to use to get those brutal truths out of me. You would think that I would’ve just started a new blog in secret or just purchased a real life journal and a good pen.

But you would’ve been wrong.

Because all that I could see was the roadblock. I couldn’t even see past it to think about other options.  So I just quit. All of it.

It’s been pretty gross. I mean, I don’t need to have someone read the words to validate the gross. But there have been some pretty gross things and by not writing about them I’ve just marinated on it, churning and burning around this or that and never fully working through it. The underlying rage at all of it, usually spills out and gets in places completlely unrelated and that’s when it gets super gross.

All of that to say, this writing project I’m starting tomorrow has provided a few other options for writing. A nice sacred place where I can go, write my Morning Pages and let them live. In secret. Never to be seen by anyone from the outside world.

I have to say, OHMYGOD it feels good!

I started The Artist’s Way another lifetime ago, when I was on my first tour and living in someone’s den in Goshen, Indiana. I was in that place you are in your 20’s, searching, seeking, gobbling up every self help book and watching Oprah for the next one to read as if salvation was on the last page. I was also really working creatively for the first time in my life and wanting to explore that and continue to nurture that piece of me. The Artist’s Way was part of that.

I picked it up again, on my next two tours, when I needed a kick start, and perhaps I picked it up again in my 30’s.

I’ve never finished it.

Finally, I decided that maybe it was okay not to finish it. I quit beating myself up for that.

The tenant of Morning Pages has always stuck with me. I don’t always practice it, it’s kind of like anything routine with me. I can stick to it for about 4 weeks then flop. But I’ve always known that free writing at least 3 pages in the morning, is a good thing.

It’s like anything we start and stop and start and stop.

Writing. Meal Planning. Daily walks. Weight Watchers. Skin Care.

I know it is good for me, and I long for the life where these routines are seamless and not even a thought because they are so part of the fabric of my day.

Until then, I’m finding joy in these new discoveries.


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