Different Lifetimes

I know.  I haven’t been here in ages.  I apologize for that and thank you for stopping by.

I wasn’t here because it hurts too much to try and write.  Even this little bit is painful.  Not physically though my thumbs aren’t moving well today.  No, the pain is mental, emotional.  You see my publisher, who I trusted enough to place a dozen books with, ran into some difficulties and closed down.  (Or so it seems but that’s for another day.)  I became disheartened.  No, that’s not really the right word.  It’s more than that.  It sucked the writing soul right out of me and left me so hurt and angry that the characters who live in my head went into hiding.  The ones who used to whisper blogs to me got so quiet I can no longer hear them.  So all you get to today is me, on my own, trying to string words together that make sense.  It’s a new experience for me, writing on my own.  I don’t like it one bit.  Part of me is petrified that the writer lifetime of me is over.

Like the musician lifetime.  When I was a child I played a string bass.  Quite well actually.  I was good enough to be invited along for an orchestra trip that traveled to a music festival in England.  I auditioned for local events and made it all the way to the state level.  I was loaned out to other schools that didn’t have a bass player and played for their spring musicals.  I even spent several summers at a high quality music camp.  Nope, can’t play now.  Last time I tried it was bad.  Very, very bad.

For part of my college lifetime I was multi-lingual.  I took German and Spanish in high school.  German, Russian and French in college.  I had a study system where I reviewed things in several languages at one time, not just whichever class I was preparing for and English.  It worked tremendously well.  I was good at it.  I was happy making it all blend in my mind.  Sadly once I graduated I didn’t stick with it and most of the things I knew in that lifetime are gone now.

I had a job stitching original models for the design department in a craft kit manufacturing company.  Back then I did beautiful needlework.  All forms of cross stitch and needlepoint.  I remember one piece was a line of bears with sweaters that looked knitted.  Every morning I would top stitch a new expression on each of their faces so I could enjoy them as I worked throughout the day.  Even after I transferred into a different department I continued to stitch.  I drifted away from that years ago.  Recently I came across some things I’d made.  They’re beautiful.  I wonder if my fingers would remember how to do that.   I’m intimidated to try.  I’m afraid it’ll be as much of a disaster as attempting to be musical was.

 

These days I’m knitting.  I learned to do that as a child, taught by my grandmother.  I made a few things and then moved on.  Thirty years later a friend inspired me to try knitting again.  I’m happy to say that it came back.  You should see the socks I’ve made!  And the reversible scarf!

  I’m thrilled with them but not.  They seem to be draining away all my creative energy.

Which takes me back to writing.  I don’t know if knitting is actually using up my creativity or giving me an outlet to keep my head from exploding while my characters are in exile.  I’m very restless these days.  I haven’t been able to sit still long enough to knit lately.  Upsetting as I’m in the middle of several projects that I really want to finish.   I weave magic into my knitting and I don’t want it to go wasted.  That would not be cool, trust me.

So there is change coming.  A new lifetime starting.  No, I don’t know what it will be.  I’m not even sure I want to know.  My only hope is that I don’t lose what I’ve learned in the last ones this time.  Maybe, someday, the universe will give everything back at once.  Wouldn’t that be amazing?  Can you imagine me able to do all that I ever could?

Transition & Flux

The state of my life.  The state of everyone’s or it should be.  Even once you’re settled and think you’re exactly where you want to be I believe it is still necessary to keep growing to avoid stagnation.  And growth inspires change.  Oh sure, it may be gradual and in the same area where you already find yourself but it is change nonetheless.

As I sit here tonight, sipping a cup of inferior chai (I’m out of the good stuff.) I am being a bit introspective.  No, my life is not where I want it to be.  Yes, I think it may finally be heading in the direction needed to get it there.  No, I’m not that worried that I’ve reached this age and am still as far away from where I want to be.  Hey, it’s taken me all these years to figure that out so I’m really just beginning.  If it works out anywhere close to the rough plan I have, I’ll be a very happy girl.

Where do I want to be?  Sorry, no specifics but in general I want to have the freedom to be much more creative than I am now.  Yeah, not an easy goal but then what things that are truly worth it are easy?

So tell me.  Are you where you want to be or, like me, are you still evolving?

Pout

I’m sad.

My neighbors are moving soon.  I popped over to see them tonight and discovered they are working on using up all the food in their freezer. One less thing to pack and transport.

They’re not moving far but they’ve been next door for almost fifteen years.  I hand picked them.  When the woman who used to live there was getting married and informed me she intended to rent her house I directed them immediately to it.  It’s been so great, having them there.

As I said, they’re not moving far so I’m sure we’ll stay in touch.  But it won’t be the same.  For instance, we won’t call out a hello any time one of us goes in and out of the house.  And it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to drive across town in our PJs to visit.  Whose oven will they use when they are cooking so many things they won’t all fit in theirs?  And what will I do with the excess soup that won’t fit in my freezer?  Who will I play with when I’m out tending my yard once their granddaughter isn’t around?

No, they’re not moving far but I sure am going to miss having them right next door. 

Mystery Solved

Last night it clouded up enough that it was bearable to sit out on the front steps and kibitz with my neighbor.  First time in over a month and it was very nice.

While we were there a man passed by, walking his slow-moving dog.  We all exchanged hellos and he stopped for a moment.  The dog, which looked like brindle greyhound, turned out to be a whippet and something mix.  His name was Pete and he was no longer speedy because he’s in his teens.  He was a rescue and the man said they’ve been the best of buddies since he scooped him up at the Humane Society when the dog was not much older than a puppy.

When I first moved into Reading a million years ago there was a fresh produce market just a few blocks from my house.  It always had the best selection and when it up and vanished one day without any explanation I missed it. 

As we were chatting it came out that this gentleman used to be the owner of the produce store.  He had to give it up when he had complications from surgery for a brain tumor.  He ended up paralyzed, blind, mute and on a ventilator for months.  It took time but he’s come back completely even though his doctors were preparing him to be wheelchair bound.  He has a full life complete with entirely new career and a very cool dog and is doing just fine.

I’d always wondered what happened that the market closed.  And now I know.