Just Start Writing


Something will come.

It always does.

That’s the nice thing about doing the blog, just open the page, open the template, and write.

I have been sitting here going over the details of my day, not enough sleep, worked a late shift last night to an early start today and I have a little over caffeinated headache, realizing that there were not many details to my day.

It was mellow.

The sun was out.

I did some grocery shopping with my charge.

We went to the park.

I watched the sunlight bounce of the tree leaves and relished the warm sun.

In fact, I was relishing the still rather warm, still night air riding my bicycle home this evening after leaving the Inner Sunset, that and the sharp, pungent smoke smell of a beach bonfire.

Oh, to have a boy to go snuggle down in a blanket by a beach bonfire.

Yeah, I want to get in the surf, but I wouldn’t mind a little interlude on a blanket by the water.

I have been thinking a lot about that, on and off for the last few days, a boyfriend.

Feels like it’s that time.

Not sure where he’s going to come from, but he’s coming and he’s really fucking amazing.

I mean, he’ll be dating me, so yeah, of course he’s amazing.

Then I smiled, today, earlier when I realize how used to being on my own I am and what wishing for a boyfriend is, asking for something to practise spiritual principals on.

Just like when I whinge about money.

Oh look, another opportunity to get some humility.

Now that being said, I do feel a shift in my person life and space.

First, I am living in my own space.

I am no one’s house guest, I am no one’s room-mate.

Yeah, my house mate lives upstairs and we’re friends and I will happily go upstairs for a cup of tea, but my house, my home is completely separate.

I have my own space, really for the first time in over a year.

Second, I am not moving anywhere.

Although I was told by a friend recently who was visiting Paris, that my room was still available there and waiting for me.

That was nice to hear, but I want to get proficient at surfing and that may take a few years.

So, no Paris for the mean time, although I would love a visit, I would.

Being anchored in one spot is a good thing.

It allows people to get to know you.

I want to be known.

I don’t need to be famous, although it could be interesting, I want to be known.  I want to be seen, I want to be approachable, and reachable and “date”able.

I also want to have my eyes opened.

Because, third, I am tired of dating guys that aren’t 100% into me.

Yeah, I know, folks have to pay their rent and I am not advocating anyone leaving a job, but damn it man, tell me I am pretty, tell me you are thinking about me, let me know you might want to get to know me better.

Let’s talk, shall we?

Now my opinion as to whether any of this will work, is just that my opinion, and my opinions are usually idiotic.

And my perceptions skewed.

This too I was thinking about as I rode my bike to work and a car zoomed past me going too fast, my opinion, and too close, again, my opinion.

Then I laughed, because I realized I was getting dramatic about something that did not happen.

I was startled, but I wasn’t hurt, and I knew it was coming, I could hear the car, and I knew as well that he was going to be close.

But he wasn’t too close.

He didn’t hit me.

So, no need for drama.

I realized tonight, in a not so subtle way, that I zoom close to things, then skitter away, afraid to be hurt, afraid to be known, blind to what is in front of me and ignorant of what is best for me.

Could you just tell me please?

My brain, which is circular in its thinking, twittered away in the park today as I pushed the stroller about being old and being single and not making enough money, and I said, that’s your opinion, now, get present and watch how adorable this little boy is.

And I did.

It was really good to do that.

Children, they do bring you right into the moment, when I most want to escape the love that is right in front of me, it pulls me right back in.

It, everything, all the things, are not on my time line, they are on God’s.

You don’t like that word?


Use the Universe and see how it’s all the same and we are all the same, all worried about the same things, frittering our time away worrying about the things that in the end matter very little because we are too afraid to embrace then things that matter now.

I love you.

I do.

You, the reader, that has gotten this far.

Whoever you are.

I love you.

You listen to my rambles and my rants and tell me, “I know, I read your blog,” when I share something with you in person.  You tell me that I wrote something important, but you know, I am just a conduit.

Sometimes we conduct things that are to happen but we can’t see when or how or whom.

The thing that comes to mind is a drawing my therapist had me draw years ago when I first started working with her.

It was my dream home.

There was me and a man, with curly blonde hair (?) and I was pregnant and there was a little boy, with curly blonde hair, in a wagon next to us, a brick Victorian house in San Francisco, a small globe with an airplane going around it, a little picture of the Eiffel Tower, a stick figure, me, on a surf board, a small island with a palm tree.

The house had a back yard with a wrought iron table and a kitchen garden and a sand box and toys and a tricycle, there was a fire-place with a cat on a leather sofa, a library with books, and as study up in the dormer window where I knew I wrote.

Looking out over the city, looking out to the sky, watching the sun play on the roofs, there was a giant dormer window and a big desk, stacks of note books, mugs of pens, a computer and more books.

Lots of books.

I don’t know where or when or how.

But I have lots of time and as I grow I can already see the seeds that were in the picture in my heart blooming.

Things bloom in me when I write.

When nothing else makes sense, just start writing.

It will all fall together.

It has never fallen apart.

That is how I know I love myself.

When I write.

That is how I know I love you.

When I write.

Just start.

Just start.

Just start now.

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