Friday, February 24, 2012

Not Waiting but Living

I try not to "wait" in the interim. Try to live instead of pause for something to happen. Something has happened, after all. I wrote a book. My second. It is completely different from the first and accordingly it will enter the world in a different way.

It knows it must be invited to be read, knows it must put on its best dress, snap a "photo" and send that ahead of itself. But when someone says, "Yes, I'd like to see what's beneath that fabulous garment, I'd like to read you" (and two people have), then is when it gets interesting. Then the book will open itself and all its language, all its characters, will whisper into the ears of these individuals...but sweetly, sweetly, to the one who chooses it. The one who falls in love with its voice.

Until then I teach, I cheer my sons at their snowboarding competitions, I train for a half-marathon. I love my husband, I walk my dog, meditate, write letters, sing along with songs on the radio. This is the business I am in today: living. "No Voodoo stuff," says George, and I know what he means.

I set this thing in motion. I raised the sail and pushed it out into salty water, pointed the prow toward the horizon and let go. I let go. It will reach the opposite shore in its time. No need to monitor the weather. The wind is favorable, the water calm. I checked these things before I sent it out, to the extent that I was able. It moves across the water in the rhythm I gave it.   

Om, I say to myself, and Mmmmmm.

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