The internet is weird right now, so I’m writing this in a separate Pages document. You cannot see it, of course, since you’re reading this on the blog, online, but I’m writing this paragraph with 2,291 words underneath it, at 14.0 pt spacing, and 11 font.
These measurements create an extremely tight living space for my words. Every paragraph is so compact that as I scroll down through the pages, my stream of consciousness resembles a tapestry.
Each paragraph, tightly bound together with intention like a textile.
I like that.
It might be a simple comparison, but writing is a lot like weaving which is already the classic metaphor for life. The tapestry moments thread together into something greater and ongoing. Is this me? Am I a writer?
Well, according to Stephen Cope if I am “lit up” and “leaping out of bed in the mornings”, then YES that’s me (raising my hand so high up) Yes! I LEAP out of bed all of the mornings, mostly for breakfast, but then, definitely yes, to start writing! Possibly writing my dharma, maybe my dharma?
I don’t know if I’ve identified writing as my true self or dharma just yet, but I know my gifts are revolving around it right now. It starts something in me that says: YES. This, you must create. For the person who writes with ideas flying from her like a mad woman, with all of her favorite things in one, this may be a good sign that writing is her truth.
The internet is working again, so without further ado, I present to you those probably less than 2,000 words I mentioned earlier. Enjoy.
Sometimes I am a patient woman who drinks all of the water and meditates and prays before the day begins, but coffee and granola seem way more important right now.
Half of me still wonders if being okay with myself means that I’m being lazy, but nope, not today. I suck up those thoughts and take a seat anyhow.
That’s how you show yourself who’s boss. The Great Work of Your Life says that we can exist in the middle of our dharma but be unable to see it or recognize it if we expect it to look like something else.
It’s not easy finding out what size we’re supposed to be. Overcorrection. How do we find our right-sized selves? Einstein says that the greatest difference between genius and insanity is that a genius has limits, and the weather man just said, “Montanny!!!!”in a long drawn out Oprah voice when he actually meant to say Montana. That’s this morning’s forecast : MONTANNY!!! I can’t stop laughing about it. It’s like when you call your teacher Mom or something. Hilarious. Listen here: You will need a sense of humor in this life. If you don’t have one, just cut it out, suck it up, and find the humor! You’re allowed. You will ignite because true recovery comes to those who learn to love, listen and respect their voice before it takes them down in the process.
The Search for Cafes
I’ve circled this Starbucks 3 times searching for an available spot. Success. I go in with all of my gear. Toes are tapping as I wait in line for coffee.
Waiting,waiting and waiting, and I’m not kidding there is only one woman in front of me. What is happening? Still waiting for the cashier to understand what she’s said at least 10 times. I wanted to reach behind the counter and make her drink for him. SHE WANTS A TALL ICED MOCHA UNSWEETENED WITH SKIM MILK and her name is MARY! What is happening?!? I lose control and ditch the whole situation, “I’m done. I can’t do this. Bye”.
I super storm out of the Starbucks. This happens a lot more than you’d think in my life. These dramatic, Isadora Duncan, fiery, exits.
Sometimes they happen walking out of jobs (not so much lately). Dramatic exits are a thing, and this one takes me all the way to the other Starbucks inside Chapters (the Canadian Barnes and Noble).
I’m pissed that my afternoon dreams of making it happen with writing are just not happening. All of the tables are taken outside, so I try and remember “MONTANNY!” to keep my sense of humor because I just want to write my f*cking words. Why is this so difficult?! All of the outside tables are taken except the one on the very far end by the curb facing directly out to the parking lot.
I sprawl my stuff out and sit down at this lemonade stand, on display, with my forehead boiling in the sun. This is where I’m writing all of this to you guys: in ANOTHER Pages document because apparently Starbucks’ internet doesn’t reach out to my lemonade stand specifically. Canada will force you into a sense a humor, and if I’ve acquired one, ANYONE can. ❤
(and it’s more like 800 words)