Writing is like scratching an itch for me. I sit down at the Mac and the fingers move over the skin of my Self, relieving the restless itch to move away from what I am. Once I say the first thing, if I am lucky, the Self writes the rest. And take rest as having two meanings. I rest in what I am and always have been.
Today I have eaten sugar again and again. Why? Because it is there; heaped on the kitchen counter are a marzipan Yule Pig, a Mozart Piano Bar, a chocolate Santa, a coconut wreath, Godiva Peppermint Truffles and Gems, Lindt Truffles, Dove Chocolates, A Smore wrapped in cellophane and a little box of Jelly Belly Bean Boozles. These feature jelly beans with the auspicious titles of Skunk Spray, Pencil Shavings, Canned Dog Food, Barf and yes, my favorite, Baby Wipes.
Every single grain of sugar will be ingested by this so-called spiritual writer with the hapless wish that it shall not settle around my waist permanently. Might as well wish for nirvana. And speaking of which, does anybody have any left over? I am feeling a tad testy, perhaps I am low on Vitamin Nirvana. I keep thinking a sugar high might help, but it really doesn’t.
I look in the mirror and see a pasty face with a terrible haircut. See a woman who has recently been crying and not becomingly. Is this the girl that started out on her spiritual quest determined to find the meaning of life. That slender sylph that had dark hair and naturally arched eyebrows. Look again. She is now squarely in her sixties, a writer coming into her own at an alarmingly advanced age. She is usually frank, truthful and edgy. Couple that with graceful, simple and tender and you have a fraction of what it was to be married to said writer. Nothing I would wish on anybody. Nevertheless, someone is looking down on me with love and hoping I will find my way to being a real writer one day soon. What does he know, sitting up there on his fluffy white cloud. The guy needs a Bean Boozle if you ask me. I still have a Rotten Egg and a Booger left. If that won’t entice him to come back down here on earth, I don’t know what will.