The real and ethereal
merge into one thought
when winter acquiesces
to the warmth of spring
and sunlight slowly melts
into dark shadows.
I have not written anything since December (I sincerely hope that I was missed). The winter was extremely harsh, in more ways than one. In January, I spent a week in a hospital bed after lung surgery, feeling as if I had been cut in half. All of the pain medication that I was given left me with the impression that everything was unreal. So I was there and not there; hurting and not hurting at the same time. Days and nights drifted into a blurry haze.
When I returned home, I had to spend another week or two in bed. It was difficult to get up and down, or even retrieve something that had dropped to the floor. My sympathetic cats kindly decided to spend most of their time in bed next to me, pretending that they also felt painfully cut in half. Their empathetic poses did make smile.
My cats and I didn’t feel like doing anything, and my desire to write was completely gone. Too tired. Additionally, it was an abnormally cold winter. Sleeping my way into another reality under warm blankets became my only aspiration.
Now it is April. The warmth of spring is turning gray into green and flowers are popping up everywhere. Creativity lives! I don’t know where it has been or why it suddenly appeared, but I just found a paper that I had written in an English class back in 1993. It is basically about my love for writing (something that I had recently forgotten). I wrote:
Reading through my writing, I search for the feeling within the words. I listen carefully for the voice. Sometimes entire sentences jump out at me, rebelliously, demanding to be discarded. Frustration! But then, suddenly, unexpected coalitions arise between disconnected words, creating new meanings. Revelations! When words come to life and begin to rewrite my thinking, I get excited.
Writing is addictive. Even when I am frustrated, I have difficulty walking away from it. Once I begin creating and reshaping, I have a hard time stopping. I am never satisfied with anything I have written, until I have mercilessly edited, reread, rewritten and edited some more. And then, just when I think I am finished, I see something else that could have been better if, and maybe I should….
….As long as there are thought to think, and dreams to dream, a true writer will never have the last word!
I guess it is time to start writing again!