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<\/a>Kavannah: Areyvut. Mutual responsibility.\u00a0 All humans are accountable one to another.<\/p>\nTarot: 3 The Green Woman. I need to lean into my wild feminine. Holding seed, soil, leaf, and wild neighbors in my day-to-day self.<\/p>\n
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One brief shining: A cool morning breeze lowers the temperature. Shadow holds a Kong with frozen peanut butter in her front paws. Licking. Turning. I started this morning with: I arrive in my body before I arrive on the page. Gentle movement. Neck left, center, right. Shoulder rolls. Hip hinges.<\/p>\n
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Writing. Every morning. Every damned morning. Twenty-one years and counting. Let’s see: 7,665 mornings. I could not have set out to do that; rather, I created the space, developed the habit, and here I am, still writing.<\/p>\n
You might think I would chafe under this routine. Push back, at least at some point. I might have, but I don’t recall it. Like eating breakfast.<\/p>\n
500 words. My goal. Some mornings they spill right out, brain to keyboard. Other mornings? Getting there feels mechanical, saying this or that. No flow. A slog. Filler. I’m writing words to see the number count turn over from 499 to 500. I’m not proud of those days. When Kate died, I felt emptied out, nothing left to say.<\/p>\n
I’ve written in Cambodia and Korea. I wrote as Kate and I made our slow cruise around Latin America. Many times from Hawai’i. Fingers on the keyboard in the Aegean Sea. Through the Panama Canal.<\/p>\n
Loved the Picasso quote I found earlier this year: Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working. My habit ensures I’ll be working when inspiration finds me.<\/p>\n
I never, well, rarely know what I’m going to write. I start with what my writing coach calls my liturgy: gratefuls, sparks, kavannah, tarot. One brief shining carries me into a starting point grounded in something concrete. Shadow and her kong. A cool breeze.<\/p>\n
From there I keep going. The long, unintended journey of Ancientrails.<\/p>\n
That sewer grate by the 7\/11. Off Yaowarat. The main street of Bangkok’s China Town. Lotsa traffic. Hurrying. Right foot down, body moving across the street. A ruptured Achilles.<\/p>\n
Back home. Surgery. No weight on my right leg for two months. Crutches. Mostly? Sitting in a chair, leg propped up. What to do. Read. Watch television. Something proactive.<\/p>\n
Ah. A blog. Contacted cybermage Bill Schmidt. He set me up with Microsoft’s Front Page. February, 2005. Fits and starts. Happened on the name. Early on the Great Wheel. Celtic lore. Holidays.<\/p>\n
In late 2006 I shifted to WordPress, again with Bill’s help. Somehow in that transition, I lost the first two+ years of Ancientrails. I miss seeing those beginner’s mind posts. Seeing a distracting task turn into a lifelong practice. Since then each entry is in a searchable\u00a0 database accessible through the Breadcrumbs button.<\/p>\n
My writing coach wants me to go back through those entries to find material for a book of short personal essays. Might do that.<\/p>\n
I know I’m in the final years of my life. Needing a clinical trial to slow down my cancer.\u00a0 As my fourth phase continues, the last phase, walking with death as a close companion (neck brace in place), I find myself deep in the rich deposit of past work. Tightening my style, revising, revising.<\/p>\n
Working with years and years of Ancientrails, with those novels. Not dead. Still pushing forward. Learning how to write.\u00a0 Always.<\/p>\n
Like Shadow
\nTurning her peanut-butter filled toy.
\nTurning.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Spring and the Moon of Liberation Monday gratefuls: Starting the day. Peanut butter and kongs. Iowa State. Iowa. Basketball. Fantasy. Submissions. Superior Wolf. Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names. Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dogs Kavannah: Areyvut. Mutual responsibility.\u00a0 All humans are accountable one to another. Tarot: 3 The Green Woman. I need … Continue reading Never. Stop.<\/span>