navy, blue...deepening in hue, my shirt patch marked with sweat. the result of a good push at the gym. healthy heart. strong body. a scheduled "regular check up" with the cardiologist on the calendar early next week. must. do. good. quell stress. strengthen bones. defy statins. i'll work the cholesterol numbers on my own, thankyouverymuch.
grey...the skies, the road before me as i mapped my way to a meeting this morning with my library programming colleagues. raindrops and splatters on my windshield, light and dark greys dancing their way from top to bottom. a swish and they're gone. a soggy memory.
brown...brown brown brown. the voice spoken from one with rounded features, soft like butter. chirpy librarian voice, making a progrum out of a program. i had to say it quietly to myself. progrum. progrum. my voice silly at the sound of the word. excited brown, yes yes yes - sort of angela lansbury-esque. only brown. not blonde.
green...street signs. watching for the right ones. making my way towards my purpose this day, that being to retrieve...
white...the white box. everything that one life could hold. a life well lived. giving. caring. generous. daughter, sister, wife, mother. my grandmother. a lifetime of rich and wonderful living, all summed up in a white box. sitting on the seat next to me as i make my way home, tired now, feelings tumbling around my head like a child twirling on summer grass. dizzy, not quite sure which way i'm facing. seeking perspective.
purple...a touch of it in the cashmere wrap i wind around my neck, a gift received at christmas. a ready hug stitched into the plaid pattern. cocooned in warmth, i head out into the evening to gather with kindred spirits. lovers of words. brains like mine seeking words to tell the story that is life. a writer's support group, and i am a part. booyah - i'm blessed. if i weren't so tired, i'd dance. that's how happy i am, to be a part of this.
red...the color of my truck. i crawl back inside for the ride home. what a ride we've had today. here, there and everywhere, miles drawn out on a google map. a multiplicity of thought, common interests, bright ideas. perspective. and that white box. live your life while you have it. do everything you have to do and do it with everything you've got. your white box day will come all too soon.
back to blue...an old sweatshirt, providing comfort as i contemplate the day. a good day. mighty fine, in fact. i settle into its fleecy softness as my fingers dance over the keys of my laptop. retracing the steps of what i have hunch might prove to be one of the more significant days of my life (again, the white box).
black too, once again...night falls and i give thanks for the blessing of the last 18 hours of my life. and in giving thanks i lift my glass...
gold...or sort of, i guess. kim crawford in a bottle, a gift from my sister nans. to toast life. the writer's life. amateur. wanting. willing to take the chance.
-t.
The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say,
but what we are unable to say. ~Anaïs Nin
About 10 years ago, I attended a weekend long seminar of what I would call "life coaching". It was motivational and uplifting and turned the life I was heading around and in a much better direction. One of the things that I took with me from this experience was something a leader had said on the very first day. She was referencing a grave stone. We've all seen one at some point in our lives, she explained, and she wanted us to picture the dash that sits between the dates, and think about the significance of that dash. Because that dash represents all the things we have done, seen, people we have met, loved, lost, who we were from the time we opened our eyes to life to the moment they closed on this earth. I was moved by this revelation and since then have always tried to live my life to fill up that dash someday. I want it to be fat and heavy and take over the whole stone. I want it to overflow and spill out and the contents touch everyone in its path. I want everyone to be able to take something good from it and add some to their own. I hopt others will fill up their dash and it overflow as well. This is the only one we get - let's make it the best.
ReplyDeleteOh Katie, thank you SO much for your words and for reminding me of the dash. I've too read that essay on living your dash. And I too had the same experience - like being hit over the head with a baseball bat! Now I have the dash AND the white box as reminders of this important message. The stuff? I could care less. The experience? The impact my life makes? That is indeed what I live for. I am SO grateful to have you as my writing partner. Love to you Katie. Write often, write well my dear friend.
ReplyDeleteTerri -
ReplyDeleteI LOVE this post. It is so creative and enlightening and REAL! I am so happy that you are taking your writing to another level. You are SO DARN GOOD. I can't wait to read more... and more... and..... you get the idea!