It is 3:18 in the a.m. and I am drinking chamomile tea and reading blog -- ones I often read and a few I've found through links. In the last hour I've been in Mongolia celebrating the new year with a monk and the master horse-head fiddle player of the country, I've been to Japan with a man growing winter potatoes [who knew, he didn't either], and I've been in the quilting circles that spiral from Down The Well [see link in my other blog -- at 3:21, I'm incapable of adding links, apologies. She's in the UK an some of her links took me to Australia and New Zealand as well as, imagine that!, the USofA.
Sleep has been fitful for quite some time. That's how it is. Pema Chodrun, a Canadian Buddhist nun I read for peace of mind and balance, advises one live with it, ever moment of life is yours to live. So I'm awake and reading hasn't worked to make me sleepy and I don't think surfing the blogs has either. What I seem to need is to feel in touch with other people who need to write about what they are doing. For me it's always been the way to know what I'm thinking. Writing is also a way to live in different depths. Sometime very superficial, sometimes really thinking hard. I'm somewhere in between tonight.
Yesterday morning I sat here with the Mac on my lap and wrote a memory of an evening at a beach party. I had promised write something about "sky, ocean, food" I wasn't sure what I would write about, let alone how I would write it, until I started. I think after so many, many years I have a spot in the gray matter that activates on demand -- tho' not without the priming of some previous mulling in a cud-chewing, almost mechanistic way. At the necessary point the stody part of the brain sits down to rest and the creative part is out the gate and pounding down the track. So I began writing and I liked the pictures I found myself painting, the details I recalled, the similes and metaphors that came to my mind. I won't claim it was fine prose but it's a nice piece to add to the little "memoir" folder -- digital and hard copy. I hope I'll do more occasional writing like this. This is a long trek away from Buddhist meditation but I think it may be a kind of meditation I need to do.
Meanwhile writing this blog is in that same category. Yes, as the picture shows, I walked holding a lion by the tail; that's a metaphor that gives me satisfaction this middle of the middle of the night, wakeful time. So the lion was tame? In truth my life is pretty tame in the continuum of what could be. Change is exciting and to be embraced but it's not easy, it's scary. It's part of nearly everyone's life. And it comes with the Big 7-0.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!