Wintry

 "Deep in the wintry parts of our minds, we are hardy stock and know that there is no such thing as a work-free transformation. We know that we will have to burn to the ground in one way or another, and then sit right in the ashes of who we once thought we were and go on from there."

 - Clarissa Pinkola Estés
Women Who Run With the Wolves

I continue to write a page, by hand, most days.  Today I was downright restless for hours, pacing. 

I cleaned a bit of the spare room. 

Starving

The new glasses are so different from any other style I've worn. I do like them, but it's taking some getting used to.

Cats are starving. Always starving. We never ever feed them.

 

Permeable

 

Not the sort of writing that wants a readership. This is raw and angry, despairing and destructive, meandering and weird, without explanation or apology. This is not for public use, or even my own reading. It's the blockage to be cleared so that the words can pour out clearly again. 

A volcanic mess.

I watch the Tongan volcano news with a geological impassivity. 

I have to cancel surgeries, and listen to people who have suffered, and deliver them more disappointment. 

If I let this all tear at my heart, I could not go on. I try to let it pass through me, but some always sticks. 

I can't remember the name of the book Pete recommended, about the sailor and the bird and all the other animals that wind up on his boat journey.  He's told me again, before, so I hesitate to ask again. 

And last night I dreamt we were still living in an apartment, or at least also in an apartment. 

Decade

We have lived here for ten years. It doesn't feel that long, and it feels like we've always been here. Such amazing good fortune, such a marvelous decision. All our big decisions have proven to be good solid choices. Not perfect, perfection is neither possible nor desirable. But we have a good house, a good car, a good sofa, terrific cats, and we still adore each other after over 30 years together. 

I've been writing a page longhand in the Tibia notebook nearly every day.  Although it's been nice for my general state of mind, it feels like digging the moat - which has not started to fill up with creativity yet. Or at least not in terms of words enough to write here regularly. 

There is time. However rapidly it whizzes by. 

Happy Houseaversary, House!

Hare

Good New Year to all.  

We've been enjoying Reservation Dogs this week. I love shows and stories that force me to abandon my cultural assumptions. Bury Me Standing and Atanarjuat The Fast Runner are two more. And this video about the issues of Black Hair. 

 I've got my own issues around 

Hair

I Got Tears in my Ears from lying on my back in my bed while I cry over you, might be this year's theme song.  Rabbits and ears and tears.