Slippage

On January 1st, I was certain: a writing project. Not a journal as I have kept before, but a new thing. I forgot the need to allow time for migraines, and I forgot that I also need to be still, to declare a sabbath at least once a week, migraine or not. Now I remember, and I make adjustments. I continue to set aside writing time and to beaver away daily, putting words on paper or on a screen, and a few (or a great many) of those words end up in a blip, but something else slips. What was the point of the three hours a day? Where was that going to lead? Self-doubt arises. I keep going, but I wonder if I have deluded myself that there was a destination. 

I spent the evening with Sue, laughing and walking in the wet city, the sidewalks and roadways aglow with neon color spilling over our feet. Ludella Peck wrote in 1901: “The unbearable beauty and mystery of things becomes bearable in the presence of the understanding ear.” 


Sue and I laugh at ourselves. Whether or not the writing matters, whether the pictures, the meetings and the business of our days amount to something, this is true: the laughter matters.