Diving In

I won a grant

And now I must dive into words...my words.

I've done all the throat clearing parts...prepared the space, carved out the time, created a schedule and shared it with family and friends. I have even addressed my inner critique/scathing asshole, but the time at long last has arrived. 

It's time to dive.

I have some essays to write. When I made the proposal, I had all sorts of ideas and now, of course, they seem terrible. What was on my heart at the time seems hard to find at the present moment. Instead, I am going to simply search for my truth. 

I feel like to write means to dig into nooks and crannies that I am not totally sure of, but they feel necessary to at least visit.

I was asked to write a bio for a little piece that is going to be published soon.

I said, "She finds her truth in her coffee cup, her books, her family, and though always a surprise, it's never surprising, on the page."

So I know, at the very least, the page is where I find what I am looking for. 

Here is what I mean. I sit down to write. I write. It's meandering, boring, yadda yadda yadda and then....hmm.....there is a sentence. What is that? Where is that taking me? Where will it lead me? Sometimes I don't want to go, but I'm so curious I just can't not go. So I do.

It's sort of like the best conversation with a good friend or a trusted mentor. I am free to say whatever it is I think or feel. I might stop and start and stop again and suddenly, it seems the truth reveals itself.

It sits there, quiet but firm, just sort of waiting for recognition. I can write for hours, for days, I can turn something this way and that and then...seemingly out of nowhere, there it is.

It's interesting that once you see something or say something that you can't unsee it or unsay it. This is why I tread so carefully... so slowly and cautiously. Will I unintentionally blow up what I thought was true? If I do, then what?

I get to practice listening in a group called The Red Boot Coalition. The premise is that once a safe spaced is created, people feel safe, connected, and loved enough to say their truth about the topic at hand. I have listened (too many times to count) as people speak their way into their truth. I have heard people say, "Wow, I didn't know I thought that!"It's like that for me when I am down and dirty on the page. The space is safe and I feel open and loved...like somehow my words will take care of me. 

I know I'm a bit of a weirdo. I have been accused, rightfully so, of overthinking. But much of that makes me me. Writing. It is my experience of doing and my being. Right here sorting it all out with no particular place to go and poised for new discoveries.

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