What I Want to Say to You

A letter to connect while I keep writing

I am spacious, singing flesh, on which is grafted no one knows which I, more or less human, but alive because of transformation. 

~Hélène Cixous 

Dear Reader

Hello, I am here, writing my words. Slowly. Thinking of you. Wanting to let you know you are not alone. There is someone else going through it.

I have been working on my posts. I have wanted to send you more of them than I have been. There are at least ten posts that could have been instead of this one. But they have been edited, deleted. Others are still in process. Writing takes time. As does working and living. Caring for myself, the kids at school, my husband.

I realize writing is so much more to me than sending posts on a regular schedule. It is how I listen to the tight wad of fear in my chest or the roiling nausea in my gut or the sad sloping ache in my upper back.

I don’t always have the words I wish I did. This morning I heard the desire, a deep heart longing to keep writing toward publishing, to stay on the path of finishing the memoir(s). But it is so not easy. Requires patience, focused attention, pulling myself back from distraction, compassionate whispers when the words drag and I wish they were soaring.

The rains are heavy today, though there is much light in this heart. I have many ways to assure it. Music. Dancing. Yoga. Meditation. Home made chocolate. Luxurious walks in the forest. Conversations with good friends.

And what are yours?

How do you listen to the body when it speaks to you of held-in emotions?

How do you conjure joy and peace in the midst of the daily duress?

What do you need to hear that will shift your attention to pleasures of the simplest and nourishing kind?

Who is holding your hand through these dark days and long nights?

I look forward to hearing from you… I hope to be inspired to write posts in response.