Waiting

It is such a relief I can write this blog again. I have also started to write in my journal again. I kept waiting to feel like writing or blogging. I kept waiting for the perfect time or idea or something. I would compose posts while driving, but get home and not post. I have no idea what allowed the storm to pass, but I'm awfully glad it did.

About six years ago I went through a very tough time in my life. It was filled with despair and loss and I truly felt I would never get over it. During that time I wrote in my journal daily, sometimes hourly. It was a necessity to keep from completely falling apart, but also a record of dark times. And at one time I couldn't bear the thought that that much misery was floating around in words in a journal . . . so I ripped it all up. There were a few pages I am sorry I got rid of. They were not despairing, but thoughtful insights -- even the beginning of a short story I thought I might write about the whole miserable experience. Destroying that journal and tossing it out was a good thing and I have even come to peace about the few pages I used to pine for. I didn't want that much hurt to reside anywhere.

But after the destruction, I was not able to use a journal for a long time. I would write, desultorily, but never with any help coming from it. Writing has always been cathartic for me. It allows me to see what is really going on. Sort of like writing out involved dreams and then going, "ah ha! I know what has been bugging me!" Losing that medium was tough. I felt adrift.

I have known for the past couple months that I am in a state of waiting. Have you ever read the amazing poems of Lawrence Ferlinghetti? I discovered him in college and fell in love with I am Waiting and the oft repeated phrases " I am waiting. . ." and ". . . a rebirth of wonder," which have always spoken to me at the very center of my being! Over the years it hasn't bothered me to wait, for I know that the rebirth of wonder will appear. Of course, wonder fades and waiting starts up again, but knowing that never discourages me. Even at my lowest, even when I think I just will never be a trusting person ever again, there at the back of my being are Ferlinghetti's lines

I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder

I don't know if I've found what I was waiting for. I do know I have come to a place that is more centered. I can write again in a way that is healing and makes me smile. I've almost gotten to the place of seeing how to maintain both the pretty pink blog, which is all smiles, and this much more honest one.

Right now all I'm waiting for is Spring!