Wednesday, September 3, 2008

“‘What is she doing?’ ‘Writing.’ ‘Can anything be done about it?’”

I’m sitting here feeling like
I’m going to burst!
When I used to get like this on my mission,
with a side order of moodiness,
Heather would tell me
go write in your journal already!”
Except, right now it is all phantasm and mist.
It all kind of hovers about and
drifts back across my consciousness every so often,
largely intangible but very much still there.

Much of it is my “master list”.
You know, the list of things
to do that never goes away
and if I made a list today
and found it in six months
(which often happens)
it would still be the same:
laundry, dishes, ironing, bathe dogs, vacuum, etc. etc.
(If my brain were a hard-drive,
this master list would make up
a lot of the background noise
in my operating system.)

It is also muchly about Nie.
I’m not obsessed
(though my husband’s beginning to wonder).
I’m simply trying to understand
the facets of a life
that so starkly and beautifully
juxtaposes my own in many ways,
and to sift out the primordial elements
and return to the foundation
of a simple perspective,
to see things with new eyes,
and try to espy my own quiescent gifts
and be still enough to allow some of those
marvelous motherly and wifely attributes
to (hopefully) permeate my being.
As you can imagine,
it’s quite a process.

Some of it is just typical stuff
I ponder on.
Lately, it’s about the gift of intelligence.
And how I’m really weird sometimes.
And what it means to really back up
your husband
and support him
(even when you might not agree with him).
And about grace, humility, and simplicity.
And about a purposeful and rich existence.
And how I think I'm
finally growing up
Truly, these are the things
you can probably count on
showing up around here
in some form or fashion.

See why I’m about to bust
open
at the seams?

I’m so grateful to have
a “room of my own
in which to stow all these things
while I figure them out.
That Virgina Woolf
was a smart lady.

[Title quote is from "Becoming Jane"]

1 comment:

Kimberly said...

Such a tumult, hun. Life gets so chaotic and makes so little sense at times. There is sense to be found, and clarity, and hope. Writing helps. It really does. If not always immediately.

 
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