I’m hungry, yes, for the quick pasta dinner I’ll be creating soon. But that’s not what I meant. I’m hungry to write, to share my memoir, my spiritual story from the 1970s until now.
Today I discovered a space. I won’t tell you where because I’m territorial. It’s a library branch way out. You’d have to want to get there. This morning was a good one: yoga class, latte, then this special space the librarian told me about when I walked in with my laptop looking for a perfect place. In the two hours I was there, I saw two people, only one of whom said hello (I knew him). It was obvious I’d made a writing appointment or date or whatever you prefer to call it so he kept it short.
I wrote out some fears. That helped. My writing was very Morning Pages although it was early afternoon. The sun was shining through a great window across from me and allowed me to enjoy the snow dripping off the trees. I didn’t write many pages but the act of writing — just for myself, just to see — freed something up. I‘ve got to write this thing for me.