Not My Strong Point...

It’s hard to try to write something positive or uplifting when it is, once again, dark and cold and POURING. For me, the need to be outdoors is always pressing, particularly in the spring, and the weather has been hideous. Our little corner of the world is on track for the wettest March on record. And, oh…the rest of the country is basking in 80-degree weather. Which, when you think about it, is more scary than wonderful. Still, I would be grateful for 60 degrees and not-rain, thank you very much. Makes one wonder what the summer will be like.

I find myself at a real impasse with my writing. At first, I decided I would make the effort to write something—ANYthing—every day. That seemed to work for awhile—a couple of weeks, anyway…which is as long as I am able to maintain a head of steam for anything these days. But I felt singularly uninspired (and the weather is not helping in that regard.) So I decided to spend some time writing a couple of what I thought were meaty and pretty decent essays. I dipped into the well of current events/politics, from which I have traditionally drawn my best inspiration. Posted two pieces having to do with the perceived right wing attack on women’s civil rights. I originally crafted these entries for Women On, but decided to cross-post them here.

The reaction to these posts was less than galvanizing, to say the least. I appreciate Kat’s and Terri’s thoughtful comments on “Why Now?” The bra-burning post inspired nary a comment. On either blog.

No sooner do I venture to proclaim out loud, for the first time, that “I am a writer!” than I find, to my chagrin, that perhaps I am not one after all. Because I seem to have fallen victim to literary laryngitis. I have no voice. Or at least, I don’t have one that anyone wants to hear. If I let it, this knowledge would surely break my heart. But I can’t let it.

This is exactly what I do not need right now, and I would think the Universe would GET it (yes, I’m whining.) I am finally to the point where I am (SO!) done resting, and I’ve gathered enough courage to go out on these little forays into projects that might turn into The Next Adventure. This is not as straight-forward as it sounds. It isn’t just a matter of finally being bored with accomplishing nothing and deciding it’s time to get up and get back at it. It’s a daily skirmish between myself and my demons, where-in I struggle to dodge their attack and throw a rope around anything that might promise to keep me from falling back…so far back into myself that I am, at last, irretrievable.

I am so in need of a little victory right now. A little direction. A tiny voice from the Universe declaring, “This is it! You’ve found the right path!” But I wonder, would I even hear it if it were not as loud as, say, a sonic boom? Maybe the Universe is screaming in my ear, and I’m just not hearing it.

As I sat and wrote this, I started to get the feeling that I’m being told to wait. Wait? I hate waiting. I’m the world’s worst waiter. Frankly, I’m a little peeved that the Universe does not recognize this and cut me a little slack given what I have been through. And then a little ditty floated into my mind, something from ‘way back in my Pentecostal Christian days. A song. Actually, a bible verse put to music:

“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles…” Isaiah 40:31

The “eagle” reference assured me that this is, indeed, a message from the Almighty specifically to ME.

Sigh!

Fine. I’ll wait. But do I have to like it?