We are in the middle of a drought, but along the roadsides bordering the cornfields, chicory is in bloom. When I drive along those roads, I see patches of pale blue-violet, like so many tanzanites sparkling in the sun.
On a recent walk, I got a closer look at the flowers: I came across chicory growing by a drainage ditch between a busy road and a sidewalk, as though the plant had taken the opportunity it could find instead of looking for a perfect spot.
The chicory blooming in this otherwise unattractive ditch made me think of my writing process. Sometimes, I put off writing because my desk is untidy or my time is too brief or I do not feel inspired. And yet, if I make myself sit down with paper and pen or at the computer, no matter how short the time, how messy my desk, I feel the pleasure of writing and the satisfaction of having done it. Sometimes, my ideas, like the chicory, can “bloom where they are planted.”
The bond of writing. Almost like blood ties. We think of writing and we settle back into our Taos friends some of whom we saw only the once, in the spring of April 2010. But when I write I think of each of you and wish our writing group was here at hand to let me through the words off the page in a furry of thoughts and emotions and sometimes tears. I long to bask in the camaraderie and comfort of our Taosness. Our unconditional acceptance. Our common love of pens and paper and writing. None of us find much time to do it back home but I know I dream of a reunion some lovely spring at Mable Dodge with fabulous food and friendship saying that we all want to come again but only if Natalie will put us all in the same writing group. I’d love to see her face as she read our request and I can already hear her telling us we need to break ourselves open anew and not seek the comfort of the world already known to us.
ReplyDeleteFollow your mind; take the difficult path – the one that’s uncomfortable
Continue under all circumstances, don’t’ be tossed away
------------------------------------------------my pen burns hot in my hand,
running ahead of my mind
calling don’t look, don’t look
- it’s a surprise
the purple ink dives fast
and deep into the page
trying to outrun
my monkey mind close behind
------------------------------------------------
Frahnseen of Taos and Austin, Texas
Beautiful reflection, Umeeta - and oh so true! Our workshop with Natalie was a seed planted within me that has grown and blossomed with each year that passes. I am so grateful we had that time to cross each other's path and to write and write and write... xx
ReplyDeleteFrancine and Rory, thank you so much for your comments. Yes, writing with you both and with Natalie Goldberg for that week in Taos was a lovely gift.
ReplyDelete