Blog Darkness

            My last post a few weeks ago pronounced a grain of my reason for starting this blog, to tell my personal truth.  I made a commitment to myself to say the truth as I see it. And, then I stopped posting. 

            What a laugh, huh?  I tell you to expect honesty from me, and then I turn into a turtle with my head tucked ever-so-safely inside.

            Here are some honest-to-goodness things that are going on with me lately. 

            I finished the second trimester with the MTSU Writer’s Loft.  I plan to take the last course for my certificate in September.  My mentor, Charlotte Rains Dixon, has been just awesome.  I have close to two-hundred-and-fifty pages written of my first draft.  I am amazed how much going to the Loft has helped me—a person who started out with writer’s block.

            I still haven’t finished my first draft.  But it is so close, I can envision the ending.  Actually, the other night I saw the most magnificent sunset as I thought about my book’s last scene.  I guess all sunsets are beautiful, but some are monumental.  I haven’t seen one as incredible in twenty years with the orange, blue, and purple colors arranged in such a way I honestly felt I could hear it sing.  The only one I can compare it to was when Alan and I lived in Decatur, AL.  We were dating then and had gone for a walk on the shore of the Tennessee River.  The sunset that night transported us to a serene magical place where tree stumps in the water were black against a maroon sky.  I’ve always felt that particular sunset brought something unlimited to our relationship, like we walked through fairy dust.  I hope the one I saw the other night will bring just as much good to my book.   

            I am treating my family with love, kindness, and hopefully healthy boundaries.  There have always, always been conflicts in my mind around my love for my original family.  One of the promises of Co-dependents Anonymous is “I learn that it is possible for me to mend—to become more loving, intimate, and supportive.  I have the choice of communicating with my family in a way that is safe for me and respectful of them.”  This is such a grace-of-God thing in my life.  

            Easter came late for me. At the first of this year, I was confused by how much my father’s suicide and the religious holiday of Jesus dying for my sins had blended.  This past year I worked with a therapist when I realized the locked-box grief of his death was a major part of my writer’s block.  The therapy work brought up another layer of grief.  I made huge strides in breaking open the writer’s block, but confusion weaseled itself into my feelings about God, about my church life, and about Easter. 

            http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5972462272937973038#editor/target=post;postID=7075698488284050629

            In one of my CoDA meetings, and in the above blog, I said that I wanted to give up Easter for Lent.  A trusted friend really helped me with my feelings about Easter.  She asked if I knew the meaning for Lent and for Easter, that Lent was a time of grief and that Easter became time of renewal.  In my confusion, I tried to give up the perennial qualities of God, and hold on to the grief.  I was thankful for the courage of my friend.  I am thankful for my own courage to hear her.

            There are still issues for me around my church life, but I am seeking guidance. 

Much love,

Karen

My Muse is a Powerful Creature

            Down the road and around a true ninety-degree-curve there is a cattle and horse farm.  They have a big sign up that says something about Horse Boarding and Riding Lessons.  I love to take afternoon walks in that direction; it’s so peaceful.  And plus, that farm holds one form of the spirit of my muse. 

            Last year when I went to my first writing certificate program trimester, we were asked to describe our muse.  That was an easy description then.  She was a gray mare with powerful legs, barrel-chested and had a large, lovely head.  I knew this because the week before my husband and I spent a few days at a little ranch style bed and breakfast up near Land Between The Lakes in Calvert City, Kentucky.  The horses out in the pasture came quickly for horse treats that the owner of the place left in the room.  I hadn’t been around horses in nearly 30 years, and the desire just to touch a horse’s velvety nose ran through me like lightning.  

            “Hold your hand flat when you feed one,” I said, showing off my vast knowledge of how to feed and pet a horse to my husband.  I put my face up next to the gray and inhaled all the molasses and grass smells that surrounded her face.  This is what I had been waiting for all summer—just a chance to be with the horses.  It’s why I booked this particular B&B.

            “They love for you to blow in their noses, too,” I said, as I blew gently into one nostril. The horse tossed her head up and down once as if to say yes.  

            Then all of a sudden, it sneezed so hard that my face, glasses, throat, and shoulders dripped globs horse snot.  I pulled my glasses off immediately; I couldn’t see through so much slime.  I think I said, “eewww,” but maybe I just thought it, felt it. 

            Without my glasses, I just saw forms.  Looking over at my husband, his form was bent completely over.  “Your hair flew straight back!” He said, gasping for air.  I heard more laughter out of him than I had in the eighteen years we had been married.  Did I mention that this was an anniversary trip?

            So that weekend, a horse showered me with enough snot to wipe away my writer’s block of nine years.  I had a clean slate, tubua rasa.  I can’t say the same for my clothes or glasses.  It took a while to get the goo out. 

            I started writing my first novel that trimester.  I’m still s l o w l y working on it.  Maybe I need to go find another gray mare.

Karen