life radiates from within...

It's been two months from the last day I wrote - a mere coincidence.

I must admit, after coming to terms with being a fantasy addict (which as far as I'm concerned incorporates sex, love, romance) I went silent.  Nothing was wrong per say, I just needed to go in the cave and be still.  I wanted to lick my self-created wounds in privacy and not be commented on. 

Unable to work on my memoir because it no longer made sense with my new found self-diagnoses, I wondered if it wouldn't just end up another great idea I wouldn't finish and did it matter?  I have so many journals filled with words, I have finally started throwing my writing away. 

I toppled into ego, feeling if I couldn't be the best writer than why write?  What did I have to say that was different than anyone else?  Why waste my time?  Do you smell another ego driven fantasy lurking?  One that needed dismantling...so there I found myself slowly unraveling my need for my writing to save me. 

And then quite suddenly all of my fantasies were gone...pop. 

Who am I?

I am still assimilating.  I am clearer than I've ever been.  I am quiet.  Slowly I am learning to write because I enjoy it, in the moment with no expectations.

I wake up every morning, I give thanks, I walk my dog, I write, I drink tea, I meditate, I wake up Cole, I drop him off at school, I go to work.  The evenings have a similar routine.  

But it is in this routine that I have found everything I could ever want. There is nothing lacking.  Even if my house were bigger with an Oscar sitting on the mantel holding up the book I'd published, with an adoring husband waiting to kiss me good-night -the routine would be the same, I would still be there, nothing would have truly changed.  This is what it means to chop wood, carry water.  I've never understood the term before.

Life radiates from within...always.