(no subject)
I miss writing. Bitching. Devotional writing, poetry, erotic works, prayers, secrets. Really, aren't they all one in the same thing?
I've been sort of sick at heart that I had all but stopped writing altogether for some time, when it used to be a part of my daily practice, the expression of the fire in my soul and an intricate part of the fiber of my being. The silence was deafening but necessary. Now it's not. Now, I want to stretch, slough off the bindings of body and soul, and wake up into the world again. I'm needed here. I'm called to it. It's time to let the words bleed out on the page again, and see what pattern they form.
Facebook just does not cut it for me, with it's run-by verbal spewings, though many dear folks seem to have defected there for ease of use and connection. It's a networking tool, a kind of cool party that you duck into and zip out of at random intervals and get to play with folks you haven't seen forever. It's valuable in its own right, but it is not a space where you can truly, freely express yourself and rehearse and rehash what is going on in the clockworks of your head. It's glaringly public, and everyone there knows someone else you are connected to. That's the point, right? But maybe I don't want to share what's going on with my lovers with my mother-in-law, or put out there that I am designing a devotional tattoo to mark my intentions and magic on my body to old high school friends. Somethings are not for the voyeurs and the tourists. Some secrets and murmurings are only delicious if you have to work to find them.
So I've come home to tinker with my clockworks here, and blow the dust off and see what happens.
I like the partial anonymity of my journal here, and the fact that I can put some writing and poems out for an audience to comment on. I thrive on interaction and feedback, and I like the controlled transparency of the way I can put my work out here and people pick it up, touch it, and set it down gently.
Here be the flea market of the soul ;)
So sit back gentle readers. You never know what will shake out of these cogs and spindles until I get to really creaking and rolling and spinning the tale.
Practice makes perfect, so come sit a spell.
I've been sort of sick at heart that I had all but stopped writing altogether for some time, when it used to be a part of my daily practice, the expression of the fire in my soul and an intricate part of the fiber of my being. The silence was deafening but necessary. Now it's not. Now, I want to stretch, slough off the bindings of body and soul, and wake up into the world again. I'm needed here. I'm called to it. It's time to let the words bleed out on the page again, and see what pattern they form.
Facebook just does not cut it for me, with it's run-by verbal spewings, though many dear folks seem to have defected there for ease of use and connection. It's a networking tool, a kind of cool party that you duck into and zip out of at random intervals and get to play with folks you haven't seen forever. It's valuable in its own right, but it is not a space where you can truly, freely express yourself and rehearse and rehash what is going on in the clockworks of your head. It's glaringly public, and everyone there knows someone else you are connected to. That's the point, right? But maybe I don't want to share what's going on with my lovers with my mother-in-law, or put out there that I am designing a devotional tattoo to mark my intentions and magic on my body to old high school friends. Somethings are not for the voyeurs and the tourists. Some secrets and murmurings are only delicious if you have to work to find them.
So I've come home to tinker with my clockworks here, and blow the dust off and see what happens.
I like the partial anonymity of my journal here, and the fact that I can put some writing and poems out for an audience to comment on. I thrive on interaction and feedback, and I like the controlled transparency of the way I can put my work out here and people pick it up, touch it, and set it down gently.
Here be the flea market of the soul ;)
So sit back gentle readers. You never know what will shake out of these cogs and spindles until I get to really creaking and rolling and spinning the tale.
Practice makes perfect, so come sit a spell.