There is a certain ritual one has to accomplish through the day. Existance necessities, daily cares. I happened to organize my book shelves that had a mixture of scrap paper to books of philosophy. Order? How and what for? Just looking through the piles of folders and scraps, books - I don't remember reading them, though I never put on a shelf a book before I read it. I came along a folder of the trip with the other writters last year to Cuba. Pictures from the Cuban writers I got close to, workshop poetry of my own including the corrections that was made at the workshops. My mind was away in an imaginative - poetical sphere. Seems like I need something to get me in the flow or flight of the thinking about words and how we use them. English isn't my original language, but I have learned to find more expresive words, or maybe more simple to say what I feel.
Why write the blog? I have no one else who could take time to exchange the abstract
soul's existance. Poems are the best way to say it, though it still leaves you alone with your thoughts. Like today, the sunshine was great over the pure white snow garden. Cardinals and blue jays had an occasional fight for rights to feed first. I watched them. One always gives up and both are fed.
So to keep myself busy I tried to arrange my bookshelves in some order to find some entertaining themes. I found a folder written last year February when I went to Cuba with the CCLA writers for relationship and workshops together. It just shook up my mind the things I found. Like my own writing ,some with corrections at the workshops, maybe a bit of a doubt that I am capable to write something good. It did stir my soul to shake up my vocabulary and it just kept running - running to where? To get my soul at peace by quietly mentioning " Life is not all by the way we make it".
Is that my Spirit trashing me to find the right way ? ...
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