I sit amongst ghosts, and they are getting slightly annoyed. Because I’ve become comfortable in appeasing others, instead of acknowledging that I own the rights of my life story.
“For who will testify, who will accurately describe our lives if we do not do it ourselves?” ~ Faye Moskowits
I hear a shout as I sit at the graveyard, “Old keys won’t open new doors.” No, it’s not the ghosts speaking but the key keeper; my usual inner critic. For a change, she is on my side and is nudging me to believe in my own abilities and judgement.
So, this is how I came out with my word for this year as self-belief. I’m going to embrace the fear of abandonment and try to publish some of my stories. These stories might even come in other forms of storytelling besides poetry, I’ll keep you posted.
All this means, there will be gradual additions on the blog and changes in blogging schedule to accommodate growth. So, I won’t be posting weekly as before but fortnightly. And of course, I’ll continue with the Midweek Motif at Poets United and blog parties, for instance, hosted by the wicked Ms Magaly.
Now, over to you. What writing or creative projects are you pursuing this year?
note: I call my story drafts and unpublished manuscripts ghosts because they haunt me for a chance to let them live or else bury them once and for all.
“There is a harmony in autumn, and a lustre in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!” ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley
There’s deep serene perched on clear blue skies of an autumn day. The kind of calm with an aura of authority, even the hurried and flustered lower the pace. Lake clasps the moment and welcomes the sun to shine. Peace and solitude occupy space, not only by the lakeside but in every breath taken and released.
Earthy and fresh, nature puts on a spectacular display. Red and gold leaves; a majestic fall. How can a warbler ask for a poem, when it already knows the song in my heart? How can it ask, for every autumn leaf falling is poetry!
A smile glows; a heart filled with gratitude for Autumn and I have a mutual understanding. Ours was an obscure relationship at first, for Summer led me believe I was her baby. Because down south, October is one of those simmering months spring overlapping with summer.
But, October loved me before I was born. Now Autumn, generous, opens her arms and calls a name. It is to this silence and peace, I respond.
process note: As I celebrate another birthday, I take a closer look at how nature continues to inspire and help me put things into perspective. And I can’t help but be grateful.