I don’t usually do this in my writing journal. I usually save opinions, book reviews, information on costuming (my other muse), angsting, and so forth for my friend’s locked live journal. People are welcome to go there by knocking, and I usually friend them back.
However, recently, I’ve finished Terry Pratchett’s A Hat Full of Sky. Innocently disguised as a children’s book, the philosophy’s underscoring the tome are exactly what I needed to hear at a time when my new supervisory position has swallowed my writing time whole, and has knotted my soul up with spiritual discontinuations (today’s new vocabulary, bought to you by physical therapy). It validates what I’ve been doing in my life in trying to reform the English Language Acquisition program at work (people are the soul and center of being a witch, and of being a teacher). It also makes me okay with the magic (writing) not working like it should at the moment because of this. (It isn’t what should be. It is.)
Much as I credit Bruce Campbell earlier this summer for reinforcing my maverick perspective on fame, I credit Terry Pratchett for sending me what I need right now. I know the universe has a role in lining you up with what you need too, but Pratchett put it out there for me, so I must be grateful.
Fall starts next week, according to my contract, and students return one week after that. I hope and wait, sometimes patiently, sometimes not, for a more balanced life, and I hope to return to productivity, rather than drops in a bucket, sometime in there. Like the Iowa ground this summer, the writing muse of me feels parched and cracked and thirsty. I’ve sewn and enjoyed it this summer. I’ve travelled to escape. Mostly I’ve worn the harness of work, and it’s cut into me hard, and there’s plenty more to be had.
But as a wise friend said today in one of his musings about his life, it’s good to live your life the way you want. I’ve taken back somethings. I’m no athlete, but I’ve taken back the gym. I’ve taken back my beauty, regardless of my weight. Now, I want to take back my mind, and give them back their stress.
Thank you, all of you who have known my work from before, in its limited venues and runs, thank you for waiting for me. I appreciate it, and your interest. Without an audience, there is a reason to tell the story, but I like to share. A life worth living is, after all, one with people in the soul and center of it.