My writing is my passion and my calling. It rises from the ashes of thought and transcends my ego high jinks, hopefully. Yesterday was a day of irony and humor in my Facebook notes, but like perfume and wines, there are always different notes in each essay. That is just how I roll.
One of my favorite bloggers is Crazy Aunt Purl. She uses her daily life as grist for the mill. Her writing, like mine but better, is infused with inner angst and hope, peppered with confession and intimacy. We are alike in that way. I, however, have never caught on with the masses and likely never will. But I write because I write because I write.
I have been looking at my life and see that changes are forthcoming. I am acknowledging that the astral plane is real and that often we meet “somewhere out there” before we actually meet in person. This also happens with anything we create. We first come up with it in our heads before we share it collectively. I am watching my fingers hit the keys, trusting them to transmit what it is I am trying to say. They are my partners in crime and time and sometimes rhyme.
I have written about my friend David, whom I met in a dream before I met him in four-square reality. We both recognized each other immediately. I told a psychic friend about him and she said “You have known each other for eons.” And I believe her. Outwardly I am alone; inwardly I companion with a few rare souls who are tuned in to something higher than the everyday.
She also told me not to do an interview I was asked to do. So I said no and that proved to be the right decision for me to make at the time. I have often felt guilty for not living an outer life; I just do my writing and inner work and spend the rest of my time taking care of business, puttering, watching TV, walking, etc. She always says that I am learning to trust my gut and that my gut usually says to keep to myself.
So here we are together this morning. We are strewn all over the planet trying to make sense of who we are and what we came in to do. I loved the David Whyte clip that I posted yesterday. In it he says that when we feel estranged from home, all we have to do is acknowledge that. That IS home. So true, so deeply true. That is why my notes ring a bell with some of you. You who know what “not at home” feels like. You who are returning home via this very knowledge. Namaste.
David Whyte on YouTube: