I woke up this morning to the sound of Willie retching and then puking. Ah well – must’ve been the grass he was eating yesterday down at Myosotis. The next thing I became aware of was the wind and the rain in the dark. An indoor day.
I love that I can sit here at the table and look up, through the open front door, to the windy, grey lake. The storm door is nice and tight – and provides another means for whatever wan light there is today to come in. All the shutters, but for the front windows, are closed. It feels very cozy in here!
After some good strong coffee and some work getting the fire started up again, I start writing. Interesting, how it goes. I begin writing from my head – as if there’s some formality to be observed – as if I’m not so well acquainted with myself after the dream-filled night. At some point, well into the writing, I feel the formality and settle down … settle in … basically asking myself … “So how ARE you!” It reminds me of something I’d say to a friend who’s giving me the news, but in a slightly impersonal way. The question finally gets me started in a whole new, more grounded vein. And it makes me think about how, after the wanderings of each night, there probably IS some need to get reacquainted, in a grounded way, with myself each morning.
Intimacy. Self-intimacy. I feel almost shy with myself. Who am I? What do I bring to this relationship? What am I afraid to share with myself? To explore? To see? I don’t want to be walking around stiffly and fearfully and half blind – and yet I can feel how afraid I am to let down my guard – even in this luxury of solitude.