January 3. 2016
I know it's Happy New Year.
I'm still working on my review of what the hell happened in 2015:
Great and wonderful things
+ loss and change and letting go,
always more letting go.
Jumping in, I'm changing the title of my blog to align with the url address:
scratching on paper: ________________________
I've yet to come up with a new tag line. musing on it
I'd like to change the design, to make it so people can click and it will arrive in their inbox. I want more people to read me, to make money from my writing but have yet to figure that out.
(No blinking ads for unsightly belly fat and forbidden foods (bananas?) here.
I'm easily frustrated by change. When the color changes, where do I click for editing the words? My neck aches. I walk away. My plan was to have it perfect before sending out this new year piece.
not even close/
Scrolling through past posts, I found some ideas/quotes I've shared.
If you could call it perfection, what would it look like? Would you feel it? Wherever you are, call it perfection and know in this moment it really is enough. - Leza Lowitz
And this, about not knowing...
Emily Dickinson didn't learn to tell time until she was fifteen years old because she was afraid to tell her father that she never understood his explanation of clocks. I can so relate, Emily.
I have no idea.
Can you help me?
Every January 1st we go to the river, (our beloved Delaware) to write wishes and prayers on leaves and bark, launching them into the icy water to take hold where they will. In past years, I've gathered fistfuls of leaves, fervently scratching specific wants, to be published, to travel, to make more money, to work out more, to have my family always happy and thriving, to do what I love, to trust my path...
Specifics are good in writing. The details bring your story to life; help your reader taste the red apple, see the blue veins under the old man's hands, feel the mouth on the inside of the wrist. But to open to mystery, to step away from the need to nail things down, to know anything, to ask for help, to let perfection be the moment I'm in right now - this is where I pray to fully be this year.
Note: I will fail repeatedly.
On this New Year's Day, we were missing our full posse, as Michael was in Los Angeles. Claire and I had promised no river messages until we could all be together. But after our two miles through the woods and standing at the river's edge, I had to write something.
One leaf, I said to Claire, it'll work for the whole family, it'll work for everybody.
* tree photo by Rob Jackson (beloved brother)