I spent the day with a friend yesterday, one who has been a huge and gracious supporter of my fledgling writing activities from the start. She asked me why I haven't written anything lately. Had I stopped writing, dried up? I reminded her that I did write......over a week ago.....my little piece called "Twilight", one of which I was very proud. Yes, she acknowledged that I had done that but she said that she looks for new pieces every day and......
I have been looking for new pieces every day too. There simply are too many. I think about them as they happen and forget about them before I sit down to record them. Is this a sign of old age or am I just overloading, trying to get as much into one daily life as I can, every day? My fellow writing friend Barbara B. claims the same thing happens to her. Funny. She mentioned it in class just this morning without having been prompted by me. Weird.
So, I really had to think about this. Really hard. Am I dry or have I had too much sensory input? Or is it that I am too alive, too alert and too in need of constant stimulation to sit down, and weave it all into something that will please me enough to make me do it over and over again until it all comes easily?
Boston. Blue sky. Flowering trees flowering. On the T. Confused and angry at myself. I used to do this stuff all the time, how could a ticket machine confound me so easily? I am not happy with the fact that I have allowed myself to be so out of practice. Away from city life too long. Not good and has to change. Agreed. People on the train, where are they going? The MFA, T stops right in front. What could be easier? On line. Toilet stop and almost walked right into a woman I knew thirty years ago. No recognition on her part, I pretended nothing on my part. Who needs to review all that past when the now is now? Michelangelo, his drawings from architecture to figures. He never did anything on canvas until he perfected it on paper.......proof. Miles of beauty, lunch in serenity, sun filled room, soft classical music and a Dale Chihuly to stare at in between bites of the most wonderful "tart" I've ever tasted. Mario Testino portraits of the Royals. Easy to make Harry, William, Kate and Diana look beautiful but true genius in making Charles and Camilla, especially Camilla, look radiant. Wow. Walked into yet another woman I knew and have always held fond. Huge hug, didn't want to let me go from her embrace. Both of us recently left motherless. Her earrings were so similar to a pair of mine. They were her mother's. Nothing is ever a coincidence. Nothing. Back on the T. Everyone, and I mean, everyone tuned in to something. Texting, listening, looking at tiny machines held in their hands. Earbuds. You text me, I text you. Ipads. What ever happened to books. Back packs. Why aren't people looking at them? They should. I do.
A back pack simply is not a back pack in my eyes. Not since 9/11. Okay, so not after what happened last week. I learned my lesson in 2001. What did you learn on April 15th, this year?
Open your eyes, overload your senses. Know who is standing next to you. Tune out, shut it down, take out the earbuds. Look, look, look...... Can you remember as many things as I have about your yesterday? What if you never got another one? What if you simply were careless and missed something, Anything? Are you out there?