Ever since My Very Dear Friend asked how I have something to say each day, I don't.
Curious, isn't it, how we navigate this world we share.
I have been working with the edits on the book. The editor was very clear about what made sense and what didn't. Now, I'm sure you have never noticed but I have a tendency to go off into a world of my own and not look behind to see if you can follow. You give me lee-way on that and are very kind, but in a book each word is supposed to make sense within its context, and so my brain is about to explode with the exclusivity of that.
Meaning that yesterday I spend a good part of the day on one paragraph that still does not work. There is so much I want to say and part of me thinks just leave it out and don't say anything at all. Let the reader start the book, so it is the preface to the book I am talking about and the last paragraph of the preface, paragraph five.
Should it go or should it stay? Oh, my! I have now printed it out and I'm taking it up the mountain to ask a mountain's advice.
It is a Zach day, and I'm sure my young friend Zach will help me find the perspective required!!
Perhaps, I will just ask for one wee nugget of help. My teacher of Sensory Awareness, Charlotte Selver used to say, "A moment is a moment."
I used those words to carry me through chemotherapy and radiation. I would sit there and lie there and say to myself, "A moment is a moment." I can do this. "A moment is a moment."
Does that make sense to you?
Tears come to my eyes. Those words mean so much to me, and I just don't see how I can remove them from the book. To me, they are the theme, and yet, would you look at those words, and say, "This woman is a nutcase," and walk away?
Thank you to all of you here who help me probe.
We are on a journey together, a quest. It may not be as obvious as some of the online interactive games but it is just as clear.
When I first got on a surfboard, I surfed. I just stood up and rode the wave. When I first was hooked up to a hang glider and ran down a hill, I flew. Of course, I didn't expect to fly so hadn't listened to the instructions on how to land, so I when I looked down and realized I was in the air, I pulled the bar in too close and fell and and took in a mouthful of sand. Both times I didn't try. I just did it. I didn't think about it, so there was no expectation or plan. Then, I tried and oh, my, no ride, no flight, and so, here I post in a stream of consciousness sort of way and then, when I try to figure out what I do, like the centipede when asked how he walks with all those legs, I got all tangled up and the point is we need to be in the world both ways.
Yesterday, I learned from my doctor that her husband is a well-known man and a well-known author. I was telling her about my editing quagmire. She said he had done fine with editing comments when his books were about others, but then, he wrote a book that was personal and wrote in a stream-of-consciousness sort of way. When the left-brain editorial comments came in, he was furious. How dare someone take a left-brain knife to his unconscious brilliance? Oh, my.
Well, I usually write here in a stream-of-conscious way. Whatever comes, I allow the flow. Sometimes it may work and other times not, but there is no need or reason to look back. I now understand a book is not like that, and so I am required to look at this manuscript differently and that is tying my brain in knots.
To handle all of this gently, I purchased a wonderful book that I recommend: Don't Bring It To Work: Breaking the Family Patterns that Limit Success. It is by Sylvia Lafair. I felt I needed to understand how to work this for myself, to bridge this conscious and unconscious way of being in the world.
This book is about fluidity in relationship, recognizing and honoring how we shift and change in relationship. So, here we are. My good friend asks me a question at absolutely the right time and that sets even more into motion. I am grateful to him, to you, and what we explore here. When I am honest with you, vulnerable, I think it works. When I begin to put on airs or perhaps "try" to be something, it doesn't, and so, how does one find that balance each day. Well, that is why we are here to play. Our sandbox is huge. I give you my shovel, and you give me yours.
Thank you, my Very Dear Friends!!