Self Preservation

One day last spring I walked to Inspiration point to be alone with the birds and trees and view. A man was there. I thought about self defense.

I thought about the part of me that stayed in my marriage. I have always castigated and denigrated her.

Suddenly she rose up. She would kill anyone who tried to hurt me. It was a lie that kept me in my marriage, she said. It was the ego. It was not her, the self I had long blamed.

I left and walked across the bridge as if it were a pilgrimage.

When I arrived home, this self, this strong survivor, wrote down these words:

Extreme self-preservation involves making those choices which most closely align life with the heart's trajectory.

This is the truth I am trying to live in now.

The Truth Is

The truth is I never did know the real reason for this journal. It began in a dream, as all my writing does. (The dreamtime is the time before time. The dreamtime provides maps of the soul's landscape.)

Then I told a little of my story, faltering and hesitant - wishing to hide rather than be exposed. (My totem animal is the rabbit - we love to remain hidden and safe in our warm leafy burrows. But we also love the twilight and magic time when mystical fairies are about.)

And now all I wish is to emerge into clear light saying, to all you other writers in the darkness of the dreamtime: Come out! (The world is waiting for you to live and breathe again. To tell us how your soul was saved and what sustains you.)

The truth is you are a testimony to life, an anthem, a poem, a song.
Without you, your unique fingerprint and voice, we can't go on.

What is Truth?

To try too hard to grasp the truth and pin it down
is to squeeze the life out of it.
Let truth be carried on the breath,
as butterflies are carried on the wind,
gently and beautiful...

What is the most truthful, the most beautiful,
the most inspirational thing I can write?

Only what has already been said...
Love Good, love one another, love your self.

Write what comes as naturally as breath,
and leave the alchemy to God...

What Writers Do

We get up. We sit at a desk or table, and we write. We drink tea or coffee or gin and write. We listen to jazz and write. We smoke a cigarette and write.

While we are writing we do not think critically. Or worry. Or judge, or hate, or fear, or doubt, or preach. We write.

If we do any of these latter things while writing, we are not writing. The ego is writing. If the ego is writing, it's not true writing. It may appeal to other's egos, but not to another's soul.