A Walk Through My Head
I wake up, the gook of sleep sticking heavy in the corner of my eyes. I scratch my bum and go for the OJ. My mind already heavy with thought about the dreams I had, my body thirsty for me to break my overnight fast. My being wants to break the silence of what’s been stomping through my head these days, pulling my creative attention.
My blood feels thick as paste this morning as I sit down to practice the writing, so I get up and open the blinds by the fireplace watching the light stream in from the early dawn. The light catches in the blue cloth that hangs over the interior door from sunroom to living room, and then falls on the pile of camping gear like a photo in a Trading Post catalogue.
I run three writing spaces at a time for myself – the blog, the journal, the page. The page is just a fancy pants way of saying I open a word document and write. Since I’ve been on break, each of these mediums has caught only the sparring words that come to head. My creativity feels blunt these days, lost in grocery lists.
So, I begin to write another grocery list – a list of lists, the one for the big camping trip. I write down my stockpile of items to take. I weave in the things I still need to collect. I add things I don’t want to forget – the journal, the colored pencils, and my pens. All the while, thoughts roam in my head…
about the fire pits at festival ran by women in long clothing, body protected from the blazing fires. About watching these women strong and sturdy walk around the pits with knowing ritual of making our meals. About the hundreds of women who will build the small village that will become my home for a week. About the laughter and happiness that permeates my space. About the arduous task of hauling my stuff in while protecting the shoulder. About kicking my feet up after night stage and eating a cookie – I hope the Chief’s Mom makes them for us again! About writing workshops I hope to attend. About working two shifts required by all. About embracing self-love and self-trust, and walking this path.
My blood feels thick as paste this morning as I sit down to practice the writing, so I get up and open the blinds by the fireplace watching the light stream in from the early dawn. The light catches in the blue cloth that hangs over the interior door from sunroom to living room, and then falls on the pile of camping gear like a photo in a Trading Post catalogue.
I run three writing spaces at a time for myself – the blog, the journal, the page. The page is just a fancy pants way of saying I open a word document and write. Since I’ve been on break, each of these mediums has caught only the sparring words that come to head. My creativity feels blunt these days, lost in grocery lists.
So, I begin to write another grocery list – a list of lists, the one for the big camping trip. I write down my stockpile of items to take. I weave in the things I still need to collect. I add things I don’t want to forget – the journal, the colored pencils, and my pens. All the while, thoughts roam in my head…
about the fire pits at festival ran by women in long clothing, body protected from the blazing fires. About watching these women strong and sturdy walk around the pits with knowing ritual of making our meals. About the hundreds of women who will build the small village that will become my home for a week. About the laughter and happiness that permeates my space. About the arduous task of hauling my stuff in while protecting the shoulder. About kicking my feet up after night stage and eating a cookie – I hope the Chief’s Mom makes them for us again! About writing workshops I hope to attend. About working two shifts required by all. About embracing self-love and self-trust, and walking this path.
posted by GoGo | 8:07 AM
2 Comments:
The festival sounds wonderful, I will be watching for the posts as to how truly amazing it was.
Hope you have a great weekend.
Hey, a grocery list is STILL writing! And it sounds like the festival will give you lots of new material!
Post a Comment
<< Home