October 10, 2012

Write, write, write


I have been in a serious work mode. Ozzy went out of town to work and I got into this non-stop work rhythm.


I am on chapter 24, a sort of unrelated numbering of the chapters that follows more the locales than the actual final chapters that will make the final book.  There is a lot of stuff on there.  Keep the meaningful, add what was witheld.


June 2010 to May 2012 . It is a bit of a dizzying experience. I could be anywhere in the world as I lose my surroundings completely while I dive into the past, the feelings, the facts and the motivations.  I get out of the process, dazed, gone, huge on the inside, the body forgotten.  I have taken to ride to a different cafe here and there, I think it helps me get into the mode that was in effect when I wrote these blog posts, on the road, anywhere, nowhere.  Then it gives me a blast of reality, jumping on the bike after that and rushing down the freeway, practically flying physically after flying mentally.  Balance.


Yesterday I spent  7 hours and today I’ve already logged in 6 and I will continue tonight. It is getting in the  thick, the point where the whole two year loop comes to conclusion, or as much as a conclusion can be drawn from life’s events, flowing into one another, revealing things as you go.  All the threads to form a whole. Hopefully meaningful.


I have cut everybody out starting yesterday.   I will do so until Ozzy comes back on Saturday. It is an opportunity I must seize.  So I canceled meetings and rendez-vous.  Some are not pleased, so be it.  I have lived too much of my life doing things to please, appease, make others feel good.  When it comes to Work, it’s easier to respect my own wishes.  What else matters?  We are creative beings and when the muse calls one must respond.


I  know that I have to finish these works as soon as I can. I don’t know why. But I do feel a certain urgency. Hence the closing the door for casual visits. It’s all purpose. I don’t know the target of all that purpose, familiar place for me to be, that edge, that unknown.


As in the very deepest hours of night, when fear and cold grab you the tightest, when it seems the light won’t ever come back, trust is all one can stand on. Trust that the day will indeed be reborn, the light bringing hope, washing away worry. The answers will come.

Write, ride, play guitar.


I still do miss my love. Crazy eh? Everyday, he comes in my mind, visits. My Gift from the Gods. I wrote these poems for him, about him, about us. I am a fool. A fool walking a tight rope with a piece of cotton wrapped over her eyes, feeling, blind yet trusting.


Gotta get back to work.


Love you all.




2 Responses to “”

  1. francoise moulin Says:

    ne sois pas trop dure avec toi. c’est normal qu’il te manque. Vis toutes ces emotions. Elles sont importantes pour te guerir et continuer ton chemin. Je t’embrasse tres fort. Tu es dans mes pensees, belle Danielle

  2. Danielle Liard Says:

    Quand l’inspiration vient, tout le reste doit passer en deuxième car l’inspiration est fugitive et coquine. Vas-y Danielle. ❤


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