Author’s note: This is from a series based on my journal. Unconventional and idiosyncratic punctuation and formatting are intentional.
This morning I posted the next piece in my journal series. I reviewed it a few days ago. I looked at it again last night. I realized it was not where I wanted it to be. I had a feeling that was the case. That’s why I looked at it. This morning I woke up resigned to posting as I left it last night but soon after coming downstairs I started to revise it again and made some changes that may have improved it. I posted it later than my usual time. It is unlikely anyone noticed or cared. What is big in my world may hardly exist in the world of another. We are all the stars of our own movies. I also sent Judith a link. Her post that day gave me the title for mine. Some days moment to moment I veer between feeling that my series matters and that the time and energy are worth it and feeling anxious about and then at peace with the whole enterprise collapsing. I imagine sometimes what a relief that might be. Inconsistency in my writing is hard to accept but maybe that is the nature of anything and especially something that tries to capture day-to-day life and consciousness. One Who Doesn’t Fit was a Connections category today. Answers included Reject, Misfit, Outcast, and Black Sheep.
For today’s writing group Cindy shared a poem by Ilya Kaminsky called Psalm for the Tilted. Alison shared one called Praise the Rain by Joy Hario. Both include imagery suggesting hope and resilience. I lit a new candle and just listened and worked hard on appreciating and not comparing myself to anyone else. The knobby tip of the wick of the old candle looked like a piece of blackened cauliflower. The new one soon melted the wax into a small shimmering pool catching the light of the flame. Downstairs started to smell like bourbon mellowed with vanilla. I felt more engaged than I expected. I felt a sense of community that I did not feel the first time I joined the group a few months ago. I realized why I have been watching a local cooking show for years on Saturday night even though I rarely cook anymore and I probably will never visit most of the restaurants of the chefs who are featured. I just like learning about their work and what excites them. I like the ads for local food and wine shops. A few times I have even known members of the audience who have tasted what the chef has prepared. Somehow it is all very homey to me. It is home to me. It’s my place, my people. I may need to do the group every time Cindy and Alison offer it. Inkling was one of Spelling Bee’s answers today.
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"What is big in my world may hardly exist in the world of another." Ain't that the truth!
The value of my activities to the world also itches me. I understand this deeply:
"Some days moment to moment I veer between feeling that my series matters and that the time and energy are worth it and feeling anxious about and then at peace with the whole enterprise collapsing." It takes courage to keep going on.