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I have been in a period of no words, only that isn't exactly correct. I have managed the occasional blog post, the occasional one off newsletter article or blog post for a client. That said there have been very few words, very little time for words. No time for afternoons spent in the coffee shop or tea house of my choice, writing, thinking, creating. No creative energy burning a hole in my heart, forcing me to type, to scrible, to write. I dislike putting things on hold, a hold over from my financial services days or a side effect of being married to a German. Progress and productivity are the hallmarks of a successful day and the ruler used to measure success is long, the bar set high, the post motormen always indication that not enough was accomplished. There are some things that must be put on hold. There are some things, which get put on hold and then stubbornly refuse to be unheld, as a sort of sulky punishment. Ah, alas this is my Muse. At the moment my Muse and I are doing this twisted waltz, one step forward, two steps to the left, twirl around, rinse and repeat. On one hand I keep telling my Muse, to wait just a bit longer, I have things I need to accomplish and wrap up, stay put just a bit longer and I will have the office, the house, my mind, straightened around and I will be ready to write, I will be in the position to really spend time with my Muse. Some days my Muse is sulky and accepts that it wasn't personal, it was a move designed to keep us both sane. Of late, I have visited my Muse for brief moments and longingly wanted to get back to our regular visits. All for naught. That said, that time is coming. The yard stick of productivity clearly shows that I am close, almost there. My space, my brain and my calendar all have a space for my Muse and I. I know she will eventual forgive for our separation, she knows it was the right choice, respects that it is better for us to create good pieces, thoughtful and powerful works and not rubbish. Our time is coming. It is a process, writing is a process, life is a process, birth, death, child rearing, creating, loving, grieving, all processes which demand, time, attention and passion. I know when my Muse and I first sit back down together, we will have to spend some time getting reacquainted, like old friends. And like old friends, I know we will be able to get back on track, as if this past year or so was only a day or two... I will leave you with this poem, written in 2007, a foretelling if you will... Some times I wish my Muse were wrong, that we didn't see so much, but we do... My Mind Drifts to You The cloudless sky—catches and holds my eye The crystal blue – almost an otherworldly hue My mind drifts to you Inside, hidden and deep, unseen An evilness seeps, unrelenting My mind drifts to you Some whisper, while others gently nod their heads Folders are opened & closed, more whispers of meds My mind drifts to you We sit, we wait, you want to say something but hesitate Others smile at us, the man in the white coat prevaricates My mind drifts to you I try to be strong, for I have known all along These tests & visits merely prolong My mind drifts to you There are decisions, which must be made While the visitors parade My mind drifts to you Dishes, which are new, for this I do Strive, to eat, to be alive for you My mind drifts to you I try to remember, I create my mental archive So when people, ask I will remember you alive My mind drifts to you We, sit we talk, we discuss You want it to be done with minimal fuss My mind drifts to you Photos are spread over the table We arrange, divide and re-label My mind drifts to you Time is now divided into a series of lasts Each day seems to go by so fast My mind drifts to you Holidays, birthdays, feast days, roll by You are fading before my eyes My mind drifts to you The house is quiet now people speak in whispers, Each offering smiles so meek My mind drifts to you I have known, in my heart, this day will come That eventually, the body would succumb My mind drifts to you Today we gather, everyone who loved you draw near They smile at us, hug us and tell us you were so very dear My mind drifts to you I told myself I would not cry, I’d be strong But funny thing -- I was so wrong My mind drifts to you I know now – what my heart knew then Only we would truly know where we had been My mind drifts to you I smile, I nod All the while I feel a fraud My mind drifts to you Why? Why was our time cut short? I so very much need your support My mind drifts to you Now we face a series of firsts The tears now only come in fits and bursts My mind drifts to you It has been a year And this much remains clear My heart drifts to you. Jul 15, 2007 ; for my mother 2012
You can go to Elisa Phillips' blog at: www.elisaphilips.blogspot.com |
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