Wednesday, Aug. 25, 2004
Moment of Drama
One of the comments from a friend here struck me, pointing out that I was unclear on something I wrote here.
There was never any question on whether I would stop writing.
Nothing short of a coma could stop me from that. Writing is my compulsion, my food, as much a part of me as breathing, and more a part of me than my hair and fingernails. At one point I bit my nails so badly that I literally had no nail on some fingers - just an exposed nail bed. I can shave my head or contract alopecia and it won't kill me. Those things are unimportant (though I haven't bitten my nails for about eight years now and am glad I don't do so any more.)
To stop writing would be to amputate my soul. My reference to 'giving up' was only with regard to publication. Even that has become a driving force in me lately. Over the course of the past few months, I've literally been handed story after story after story and asked to translate them to the printed page, to tell the world. In order to do that, I need first to write them and then to get them published. These are stories that draw me nearly as much as the function of writing.
Then again, perhaps that's the underlying definition of writing. It's not so much the process as it is the stories that demand to be released from the prison of your heart and mind, their escape achieved through your fingers as you inscribe them, spilling them in a sequence of words across whatever page form you choose. That holds true whether you write humor, pathos, mystery, nonfiction, or something that defies easy categorization.
There are so many stories that are yet untold. There are words brimming on the cusp of overflowing, dammed by physical and time restrictions. The dam is creaking now, its walls cracked and bulging. The stories won't be stayed much longer. The only question now is whether they will be given the orderly and appropriate release or whether I will break on a fundamental level and they will jumble together in a flood that takes me out with them.
If this sounds overly dramatic, so be it. That's the measure of urgency that is pushing me along now. There is a sense that if I continue plodding along in my current situation, it will result in something that destroys everything within me.
Unfortunately I have to return to the plodding for now - for this moment. I have taken two key steps toward changing that, and now I'm required to wait while those play out. Anyone got a Dutch boy or two they can lend me?
Before - After
In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )