Words spilling onto the page, the kind of writing that comes
from the sweet ache at the centre of my bones, always takes me home. It helps
me catch up with myself, discover the state-of-the-union (or disunion) within, find
healing and meaning. It opens me to sorrows that have been avoided and,
as these sorrows are allowed, fresh joy in the ordinary and the extraordinary
is felt fully.
Making room in my life for this kind of writing cultivates
an otherwise often elusive and always delicious indwelling in my own body and
heart. The words take me, make my breath catch. I find myself scrambling for pen
and paper as I move past dark glossy eggplants and feathery white mushrooms in
the grocery store. Turning on the light in the middle of the night, I scribble
words on the pad always within reach at my bedside. After I have turned off the
light, I lay in the dark grinning and whispering, “Thank you, thank you, thank
you.”
I’ve been off social media since June in order to turn my
attention to writing a new book. I miss our exchanges but it has become
apparent that this truly is the right (write) thing for me to be doing now.
Oh, it hasn’t all been chuckles. Life always has its little
challenges. For some of the days and a couple of the weeks I have been housebound
or bedbound with frustratingly unpredictable flare-ups of the
chronic illness I’ve had for over thirty years (CFS/ME/FM.) Enjoying time at a
friend’s cottage despite symptoms, I joked that the new book could be titled,
“My View From the Bathroom Floor.”
And, at the same time, the needs of my aging parents (both
with Alzheimer’s and increasing physical challenges) have required time and
attention.
But still there are moments, hours, and sometimes days when
the words flow. The writing I love flourishes
in slow-paced, open-ended, inwardly turned time, time that allows me to wander where the words
can find me. Regularly checking my emails, blog, and Facebook cultivates a speedier,
outward focus that pulls me away from the story that is unfolding.
So, for now, I will not return to regular posting although I
will drop by with occasional updates. I
decided to post now because I will soon be heading up to northern Ontario. Knowing
I will be alone in the bush at a cabin on a lake where there is no phone or
internet connection, I can sift through comments today sure that I will not be tempted to slide into the delightful distraction of
daily connection during the week ahead.
Next week is my birthday and although I will celebrate with others
when I return, I will spend the day doing ceremony alone in the wilderness. I
will do prayers for myself, others and the world. I will sink into the silence.
I will stretch my body on the massive sun-warmed outcroppings of pink granite
and creamy quartz. I will listen to the voices of Grandmother Earth. I will
swim in the dark water beneath the light of the full moon and let the stars
sing me to sleep. I will align with the wilderness within and around me and open
to the Great Mystery, the Sacred Wholeness that holds it all. I will dream for
myself and my people- knowing that on the level of soul, all sentient beings
are our “people.”
And, of course, I will write.
Sending much love and gratitude, Oriah
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