Weaving Reverberatory Laces
Reverb. Reverb. REVERB! Like little bitch slaps in my email, drowned in spam from a deactivated filter yet buzzing in desperation toward life, chi, survival. My inner creator, dying to get out. Trying a daily email to force a daily thought about the journey of writing and reflecting. It's a little self-involved these prompts, no? Well, no, turn the tables on it, Rachel!
I joined the Reverb10 project in an effort to write more, but the goal is daily. Cumulative is okay, or so they say. There's a muse shrieking to be rescued for sure when you sign up for something like this. It means, "Hi, I'm in here but I cannot get free." Time poor. Time poverty. Some people in the world don't have homes, water, clothing, love, convenience, peace, friends. I don't have time. I am blessed and yet in other ways, I come up short.
Time poverty was my revelation for 2010 and it touched on the topics of several of the other Reverb prompts too. Friends in 2010? They largely fell off the map. Lessons learned in 2010? I break. I break in half. I break down. I stretch too thin, too far, too ambitious, too imaginative. Too what?! You're kidding, right? Too imaginative? Well, yes. And entrepreneurial. And I can't live up to the dreams. I can't execute the intention. I'm time poor, don't forget. What am I sacrificing right now to type this? What are you giving up to read this? How did you get here and where will you go once you've consumed this improvised (oh the truth you don't know about how quickly this emerged onscreen!) perspective?
But all that leads me to the next prompt in the project: what should I have done in 2010? I'm doing it now- reading. Amazing writers. Amazing blog rolls on their blogs! So much to read and consume. That's what I need to try for next year- engaging more. Writing is an exchange. Listen then spout. Reflect then spill; wipe up, boil water again, pour...oh shit the tea bag broke open! It's the journey not the destination that will let you heal.
That's how I healed in 2010. Coaxing the little perpetually sore spot on my spine back out with intention. Peek-a-boo. Hey! Here I am again- whole, except for you. Come on! It's just us vertebrae here. 'Come join us in chorus and cheers to the spine!' (inside lyrics joke thing...) But it's a process, not a state of perpetual painlessness. Once you get that reality, you're good! ;)
Photo by me: The teakettle is boiling.