Archive for the ‘yes it’s fucking personal’ tag
buttered side down
everything is going to be alright. unknown
(if you know who the photographer is, please tell me so i can credit them)
so, now there’s been a great breaking down, days where my toast would have landed on the floor buttered side down if i’d dropped it, what happens next?
natalie goldberg, in her marvellous book writing down the bones says:
you can’t go deep into your writing and then step out of it, clamp down, go home, “be nice”, and not speak the truth. if you give yourself over to honesty in your practise, it will permeate your life. you can’t straighten up during writing and then hunch back down when you let go of the pen. writing can teach us the dignity of speaking the truth, and it spreads out from the page into all of our life, and it should.
i guess then, that gives me a few options:
- stop writing the truth of my life
- keep writing the truth of my life here, but not allow it to spread out from the page
- keep writing the truth of my life here, and take that same truth out into the world
because what i did was fairly easy…
i didn’t have to look you in the eye as i was writing. i was hiding in bed, sharing some of my dark thoughts and how i really feel, sharing the truth. because a lot of people who read my words here don’t know me, have never met me, and i don’t have to interact with you during the course of my daily life. so you’re never gonna know if i don’t live with this same honesty as i emerge from under the covers and step back out into the world.
the real change will begin when i learn to take this same truth out of my writing and into my daily life – speaking this truth as i interact with the people around me… because if i don’t, or if i continue to only speak this kind of truth when i write (on, or offline), then i will end up living a dichotomy that is likely to be my undoing.
this is my promise to myself for 2010
- i claim VOICE as my word for the year and TRUTH as it’s backup singer
- i will speak my truth gently, understanding that whoever is listening has their own truth and may not want to hear what i’m saying
- i will ask for help if i need it
- i will begin
(thank you to you all for your wonderful responses & lovely email messages. i am braver because of you)
dancing with ants
speak the truth. unknown.
(if you know who the photographer is, please tell me so i can credit them)
suddenly everything has piled on top of me at once and i can’t see my way out.
i am fucking angry right now with some parts of my life, yet i’m not doing anything to change them.
i’m feeling lost. worthless. might as well be dancing with ants (it would be just as useful).
i have watched Gabrielle Bouliane, speak to me about things i already know and am still not doing anything about. she challenges me to get up and do something with my life. she’s dead now and i’m still alive. and still not doing anything.
i was offered a writing gig that, while unpaid, is fairly high profile in some creative circles. there was excitement and disbelief… mostly disbelief. with so many amazing writers on this planet, why did they choose me?! and when it came to selecting photos to go with my words, looking back through all the places i have been, i am really struggling to find six that i really love now.
i have lost faith in my writing & photographic abilities
my head knows all the words
- i get to choose how i react to things in my life
- if i don’t like who i am, then change it
- make a list and start at the top
- just start with one thing
- …
i’ve read motivational books, websites, know all the right things to say to offer encouragement to myself, to write my way out, or do the work
i have been struck down with a fever of the mind and spent the last two days in bed. with crazy thoughts going through my brain…
- like selling all my cameras because i feel like i take crappy photos
- like how much i hate a part of my life, but have no fucking clue what to do if i don’t do that thing anymore
- how i have a book that i still haven’t managed to finish
- how my style statement book is sitting in a pile of other books because i haven’t been able to finish working through it
- how, if someone had to come into my flat to clear it out because i just up and left, they would find so many unfinished things; like unsent mail, unframed art, unfinished creative projects
- how i can’t fill in susannah’s lovely worksheet because i don’t have a word for 2010. i did think at one point that my word might be voice, but since i have such a hard time with saying anything, then how can it be?
- how i don’t have a clue what i’m doing with my life and, if i didn’t have my beloved right now, i’d be screwed because i’m hiding in bed (not working) and wouldn’t be able to pay the rent
- that i have one coldsore on my face already, with another threatening to appear and keep it company
- how maybe my new haircut wasn’t such a great idea after all
- how trivial all of these things are compared to the problems of others, so how dare i stay in bed and feel sorry for myself. like, how fucking self-absorbed am i?!
but rather than getting up and doing any of these things; or starting with just one thing, then moving on to the next, i’m just sitting here.
feeling like shit. not doing anything to change it.
i myself am made entirely of flaws
stitched together with good intentions
- unknown
what i don’t need:
- platitudes
- judgement (talking mostly about myself here)
what i do need:
- the space to allow this to work itself through me, rather than trying to subdue it and make it not okay, or make myself wrong for feeling any of this
- carol’s siren red angel
- friends who can help me get my big girl panties on and deal with it
