Yesterday, when my time was up, I thought the day was going to wind down. I was a bit disappointed in the fact that my time had run out. I am thankful that I can use the public facilities that are available downtown for my computer needs. However, I am at the point where I need to really dig into myself in order to dig into my writing. Whether I blog about civic events or issues or my personal journey, I am at the point where extreme concentration and focus is necessary to get master the level where I find myself and to catapult to the next
The day did not wind down. Frustrated because I had to abruptly end my blog and force an end to my train of thought, I grabbed my bag of purchased books and walked to the Central market. I am determined to get in the habit of purchasing fruits and vegetables and mixing drinks. I was doing that before things changed. I loved it. There was nothing like swimming , cycling and running and then drinking a nice blended fruit drink. It was fulfilling and healthy. I felt light all of the time as well as clear headed.
I bought my fruits and vegetables. afterwards I walked down Main St. I was proud to have my books in my little bag and my groceries. I was thinking of Stephen Carter as I walked by the Metropolis book store. I was thinking about LA Woman because I read a passage in Walter Mosley's book about how to write a novel. I bought that "how to " book at the same time I purchased three novels.
Walter Mosley said a person needs to write every day. It puts you in touch with what is lurking in the subconscious. Well, I thought that made sense because every so often, when I hit a plateau and feel that everything is jumbled and makes no sense, much like life, suddenly, insights from out of nowhere come. Some times they come in clusters. Each time it seems like some of the excess from a previous level is removed and I am getting closeer to the meat, and not so much fat.
"Hmmm, I thought. Maybe that is what LA woman has been pushing me to get to. To the meat of clarity and remove the clutter and excess from my thoughts and being.
She is like a professor that says. Ok. I read what you wrote, go back and write some more. Or like a tennis coach that says "Ok you hit 200 serves, go hit 200 more. Certainly, it is what my father would say. Interesting that after all of the practice serves I hit in junior high, high school, college, post college minor league
pro circuit and the senior circuit, I did not understand what I was doing until I was in my late 30's. That means you can make adjustments without thanking and can explain, in detail, each micro move and micro change in your production of the stroke and know what it will produce in change of output. If you can not do that, you know nothing.
And I find that the more I write, the more things open up. Sometimes in my early blogs, when I was just rambling I knew that sooner or later I would hit a stride on something and lock into it. I am trying to lock into some things, not now at this moment, but during this phase.
I was walking and thinking about the two people who are the title of these posts and suddenly a door opened. I recognized the gallery as I was going to interview the owner of it one day for my blog. There was this sudden burst of energy when the door flew open. Refreshing, if one let the energy absorb into one's system but unknown. "Come write for me" was his statement. I just knew the man was not talking to me. I looked around to see to whom he was speaking.
No one was there. He said it again. "Come write for me". The man was talking to me like he knew me inside and out. "I know who you are.". Oh he must be mistaking me for someone else. Then he handed me his card. Immediately, I knew who he was.
He sent me my very first comment, a comment that said so many things and one that I remember every day. He had this pure caring energy about him that was teaching me at warp speed.
He said so many gracious things to me. You must understand. I have been recruited to play sports at colleges. I have been recruited to jump ship at one corporation and go to another. But this is was different. For one, I do not know anything about writing. I just know that I am learning as each day goes on. I know that I love it as a vehicile to achieve. Achieve what? Whatever you want because it brings about clarity and is a source for discovery and understanding.
I know from listening to this gentleman that he could answer many questions and that he would be glad to do so. Something on his card caught my attention and when I read his bio, what was on his card, and in the substance of his delivery confirmed his background and nature.
I was so stunned I left but I knew I would speak to him soon. Just the other day, I received an email from an online writing website that hires free lance writers. I applied to them for a job. I did not know the nature of the writing that they wanted. I just stumbled across them and applied. two months later, I received an approval. It was momentarily exciting but the speculative feeling of fulfillment
dissipated as I realized it was not writing that would inspire thinking or action.
I talked to two women who believe in my skills. In fact, I talk to them because I can not believe that they like my writing. It just tickles me. It has tickled me when some city officials have said the same thing. IT tickled me when Kevin said he liked my writing and that his wife Debbie reads it every night. I wonder if she still does, by the way. I was thinking about them alot today. I was cleaning out my room, doing what everyone said to do to get accustomed to my new phase.
As I type, some maroon sweats are drying. I wore them every day. I remember when I grabbed them off of a table in the courtyard at the Transition house. I need some close and they were donated. Nobody wanted them. I cherished them. However. They do have, within them, memories that stay with me each time I look at them. Those memories , in effect, increase drag coefficients in my progress. I waste energy feeling the past and how hard it was. I have been thinking about getting rid of the past and now I am doing so. I wanted to wash them and give them to someone else.
Those sweats have some good energy in them. No doubt. I think someone can use them.
I talked to my lady friends about the freelance writing earlier in the week. They saw it as an opportunity but something was not there. This is different. Again, I called them. My excitement was more far reaching. PLus, I know this man can teach me. I know it. He can answer many things. Provide direction. I can improve my skills and contribute to the vision that he has for his publishing entity.
They say when the student is ready, the teacher appears. This man came right out of nowhere. I must say that there is another teacher that has played a part in all of this. greatly. Joe Cornish. He shared with me some things and encouraged me to write and joe is an english teacher. So, in wonderment I sit back and say,"I wonder what they see." My two lady friends explained to me how I touched them.
LA Woman wants me to touch myself some more so I can communicate some more. That is clear. It is clear now. That is one of those epiphanies that just sprang up.
So I am clearing the decks and becoming more efficient so I can become more effective in understanding this phase and to make the best of it.
I want to give away some things when I return to my room. I want to feel a new energy. I want to be able to feel a new clarity. Achieving clarity is an ongoing process and at each level the process renews itself. more things to consider. more things to separate. more things to integrate. Understand deeper the causes and effects of life.
I am clearing the decks of my emotions. I am preparing. But I will have time to study tonight. I will read some more of WAlter MOsley's book on how to write a novel.
I will look at the people of Skid Row. I will feel them. I will feel many things as I aske my lady friends for their insights about life.
Then tomorrow I will email this gracious gentleman that surprised me yesterday and learn some more and hopefully begin a process to contribute for him.