There is no way around, it is humbling when you do precisely what you have determined you will not do. In this case, writing a blog. When you break your own rules, it is either a grand ‘break out ‘party, or an ‘oh shit’ kinda moment. I am suspending judgment (for now) as to where I’ll place this transgression.
Mostly, when you go outside of the lines that you yourself have drawn, it is for good purpose, to further some end that is meaningful (not necessarily noble). This one is simple. I have been captivated by writing, by poetry, willing at least for now, to submit to its extended requirements.
I gathered forty poems, written over 8 years, bundled them into a sheath of respectful regard, lay them flat between the borders of beautiful covers, offered them up to be held by hands other than mine. Like sending your child to pre school, after all that home cloistering. The moment that child puts on her tiny backpack, in this case her ISBN number, is the moment of exultation and trepidation. She is launched out into a world that may flay her with harsh criticism, greet her with kindness, with loving welcome, most likely she may suffer most from indifference.
I make sense, meaning, poems, pots, sweaters, homes, beauty wherever I can. That is how I organize in this world. It is my version of a truthful response to being here.
I’m told that in this new etheric world, one must have an ‘on line’ presence, whether anyone reads it or cares. So to honor my creative love stirrings, to send my child out wearing her best new mittens, her face clean, her cheeks kissed, I offer up all the help I can give her.
Am I in transgression, I honestly do not yet know.