It’s been a while since I blogged. It’s been a crazy past few months. I finished my Karuna course with much to think about. Much to consider in this life. And life appears different to me now compared to what it did before the course. It’s been a journey into finding out what really matters for me in this life. So, in these past weeks where I have neglected this poor blog of mine, I have been busily “cleaning house”. Not so much the structure in which I dwell – more so the space that dwells in me.
I downed writing tools during this time. A deliberate and difficult thing to do. I think as a test to see, in reprioritising everything, whether I really did want to continue this writing life. I got on with all the other things that a writing life has me neglect.
I did expect that the extra time I had by not writing would empty out some space, and that life would be less crazy. And technically, it was. Not writing has created space. Mostly, a big empty hole in my middle. And that is driving me crazy. In turning my back on this thing I claim to love, I realise how much I have missed it. And I have longed for it. And like a child who is forbidden candy, I have craved to sneak a piece and savour it, tucked away where noone else will see me.
In challenging my commitment to a writing life, I realise that me not writing creates more chaos that calm. Me not writing creates more void than space. Me not writing creates the sense that I have shunned my closest friend just to get the dirty laundry done. What I failed to realise is that writing is a part of me, a fundamental strand of my DNA that ties my spirit to this external life. It feeds me joy.
I think that’s what really matters for me in this life. Finding words. Finding joy. Finding out I’m smitten with this writing life. Long may she live!