I learned something today. I usually write what's going on in the moment, so in the morning, I'm in that lovely, just popped out of the dream state place, and I write and post. This morning, I wrote my offering and went to post and learned that LJ was down at 8 AM, not 8 PM. I need to read a little more carefully.
Okay, I think, I'll post when it comes back on. I come in to check about 1 and the sun is shining and suddenly my posting seems rather innocent, in need of protection, in the harsher light of day. I feel shy. So, now, it is evening, and I've had a medicinal glass of wine and I slip it in, like silk on skin.
from early this morning:
A friend notices and writes for a few moments or longer each day as the sun rises and sets. She notices the earth’s turn. I rose when it was dark and did the same this morning.
Then, we spoke for our writing time and I plunged in. She was in a retreat this weekend, and was given an “assignment,” fifteen minutes to write five events of her life and three to come. I started there and wrote a little poem, and then, something entered, and I wrote what I thought was the “perfect poem.” Then, my computer locked up and Word shut down. The poem is lost and I did a ditty of re-creation, reminded of when I saw Tibetan monks work for a week on sand paintings and then, blow it all away. I was astonished, but considering the subject of the poem, it was appropriate it vanish, lesson taught and received.
When I read the notice about Live Journal shutting down, I thought it was from 8 to 12 tonight, so I was prepared for that lapse, but when I came to post this morning, I saw that it was down, and, again, I laugh. Impermanence. Change. Birth. Death. The theme of why we’re here. Receive, and in that, give.
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