For many years, I posted a photo of Tiki or Bamboo any time I managed to squeeze at least a half-hour of writing into my day. Dubbed my Cats of Creation, they chivvied me from bed to writing nook for nearly a decade, where they listened to me read chapters aloud and offered their meeps of approval and salty Siamese commentary.
When Amanda pins you with her piercing dark eyes, there's simply no looking away. If Amanda had a fragrance, a friend reveals, it would be clove, jasmine, and cedar wood: Amanda's energy does seem to waft out around her, wooded and deep.
What is Presence? Presence is a folded-over stretch in the middle of your day when you realize your hamstrings are tight. Presence is taking the goddamned time to floss.
Editing progress is made. Which requires much Compassion.
1 Week in Paradise = 3 Months of Writing Practice
If all you knew of me came from this site, surely you would have thought this project defunct. After all, my last post was two years ago. Life happened.
Death happened too. I said goodbye to more than seven people in 2016-- including my father, aunt, dear childhood friend, and next door neighbor.
When this year began, I harbored grand dreams of blogging more frequently as I delved into editing the chapters of this book, wrestling with the concepts, retracing my journey a bit more publicly this time. Life, it seems, has had other plans.
Recently, I crossed a writing milestone: 40% complete with my rough draft. I only wish I could calculate how much of that has involved a Siamese fur barnacle purring against my left leg.
When choosing a word to represent something I wanted more of in my life, I boldly declared it to be my year of Presence. And then immediately wrote Joy on the first rock to find me.