Sunday, March 28, 2010

I take upon myself this challenge.

Did anyone notice that in 2007, I had 101 blog posts? Well, I did. I also noticed that in 2009 I had 39. That says something to me, especially in the light of my last post.

It seems that in 2007, I did A LOT of whining. Well, whining, complaining, venting, and so forth; mostly negative things.

Today before we left for church I found an old notebook of mine that I haven't looked at in over 3 years. Inside I found a bit of a treasure, for on about seven pages was a very basic rundown of my life, as written by the 2004 me. This outline was preceded by a diet/weight loss plan and objectives. It is obvious that I was trying to talk myself into action. And then I wrote this:

"I can ask myself 'important questions' all day long - but it changes nothing. Let's instead recognize the times that changed my life."

Then I began at birth and did numbers, letters and bullet points for various people and events in my life, often footnoted by comments like "poetry began," or "@ 8 saw Mom as Guenevere." I pinpointed the very age when I began to dream of writing and publishing my very own book. "True exaggeration for attention began" when I was 9. I noted that catching a lizard was important to my development and growth. Event listed as #11: "First sign of fear," followed by "True anger came out." Yoda was right: fear leads to anger.

I have recorded when I first heard and felt the difference between the Spirit and those who would impersonate the spirit. I figured out why my first real relationship failed and summed it up beautifully: "Why did J.R.R. fail? I held back."

And then I read the line that deeply spoke to me today. At # 31: "Developed 'introverted creative melancholy.'"

It was around that time in my life that I figured that there were more ways to describe sadness, and that sadness had a sort of accessible beauty to it. So many people could read my sadness and say, "Yes, I felt that way too, once." I also feared that I didn't know happiness well enough to write about it.

What I didn't understand was that happiness in my life is like oxygen. It's always everywhere. It exists for no other reason than to be taken in by me. If I hold my breath, hold on to one particular happiness: eventually I suffocate myself. If I exhale a happiness and never want to replace what I just let out, I will suffocate myself. And on the other extreme, if I breath it in day in and day out and never acknowledge it, whose fault is it that I do not see happiness? I totally get that now, because every day I employ my agency and take in my happiness, savoring it's sweet flavor!

I have past said that "I am essentially a happy woman," or "I am content." Those comments seem to have the caveat that I have not been or will not always be so. No more of that garbage. I will just come out and say the truth: I battle depression. I have a tendancy, spurred on by sugar and food abuse, to over-react to bodily sensations and misinturpret them as sadness or un-happiness. But if you ask me "Are you happy?" My answer will be "Yes." because even though I may not feel happy, I AM happy.

I'm not sure why I gave up writing after I got married/after I finished with school. I have not yet pinpointed what drove me to share and create less and less with the written word over the last two years. But I am deciding NOW that I will open myself up to the random creativity I enjoyed years ago. Random creativity that produced my heartbreakingly honest short story "What She Deserved," or random bits of verse like this:

"Down the page columns go
hopes and dreams come and go
Here today, tomorrow gone
What will stay number one?
Ev'ry day changes come
once a child - then a home
Love or fame, beauty bloom
Safe above sorrow's doom
Darker days where goals will change
open wide the shifting range."

Did anyone say I have to be Auden or T.S. Elliot? No. I have made similar declarations before. Perhaps some of my readers are tired of hearing me sing the same songs, as it were. So I am going to challenge myself.

I will begin writing the Book of Sayyadina. I will leave pieces of paper in my wake, scribbled and inked with my thoughts and creations. In fact, I will blog a blog twice a week. Wow. That is scary to put out there. I can do it though, right? Heck yeah. Bad, good, happy, sad . . . I have risked these emotions before and carry no fatal wounds for the sharing. Okay. I'm going to do this. Here's to more than 101 in 2010!!!


Lori said...

yay! i'd love to hear more from you!

Fedaykin said...

Excellent! The protracted drought has kind of sucked. Now get your husband to do two a week as well. Then I won't need to waste time on youtube.