ON YOUR MARK, GET SET...

As far as the search for solitude is concerned, we live in a negative atmosphere as invisible, as all-pervasive, and as enervating as high humidity on an August afternoon. The world today does not understand, in either man or woman, the need to be alone.

How inexplicable it seems. Anything else will be accepted as a better excuse. If one sets aside time for a business appointment, a trip to the hairdresser, a social engagement, or a shopping expedition, that time is accepted as inviolable. But if one says: I cannot come because that is my hour to be alone, one is considered rude, egotistical or strange. What a commentary on our civilization, when being alone is considered suspect; when one has to apologize for it, make excuses, hide the fact that one practices it --- like a secret vice!

Actually, these are among the most important times in one's life --- when one is alone. Certain springs are tapped only when we are alone. The artist knows he must be alone to create; the writer to work out his thoughts; the musician to compose, the saint to pray. But women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves; that firm strand which will be the indispensible center of a whole web of relationships. She must find that inner stillness which Charles Morgan describes as "the stilling of the soul within the activities of the mind and body so that it might be still as the axis of a revolving wheel is still." ..... Anne Morrow Lindberg, Gift From the Sea

So, I'm 34 now and tomorrow starts Day 1 of what I hope will be the last of The Novel Rewrites. Here we are on the corner of Revision Avenue and Revision Blvd. Any which way you look at it: it's Revision. What I realize is this: the primary requirement for getting this done will not be more classes, workshops or critique groups but simple solitude. A going inside of one's Self; a quieting of the mind, the act of having a singular focus -- the steady hand of the welder gets the job done. I know I'll do it. I have no doubt whatsoever that it'll get done. The question is, how long will it take? What centrifugal forces will pull me from this labor of love? What shocks will come to the periphery that will threaten my singular focus?

So much of what happens to us is out of our control, but so much of what happens is the result of our decisions. I've taken appointments on the Mondays and Tuesdays and Wednesday mornings that were supposed to be dedicated writing days. I've taken telephone calls from folks that don't give a damn about me, and used up hours on end trying to help solve problems that are not mine to solve nor worry about. I have not been a good steward over my time. I've been the one, cancelling my writing time, to meet with someone who "just isn't available on any other day." And so who is there to blame, but myself?

No worry though, because that's the good thing about birthdays. It's a starting new, a fresh beginning.
So the new rules for the road will include:

1. Dedicated time in both the morning and evening for meditation, even if it means setting the clock a little earlier. I like myself better when I'm actively practicing meditation.

2. Definately more time for yoga. Spouse and I started back at the gym on Friday and he convinced me that the best way for me to tone these thighs and abs of mine is weight training. Not to look like masculine, but to be toned. Well, I'm aching today -- that "back in the gym" ache and realize that if I'm going back in, I'm going to have to incorporate my yoga stretches to reduce the risk of strain and injury. I'm also going to try to squeeze in the Tuesday morning Pilates class that the gym offers up for free.

3. Daily journaling in my private journal. My thoughts are important to me. I like looking back on who I was and seeing my growth and lack thereof. It helps me get my path straight.

4. A schedule. I have a way of letting my days just "happen," and that ain't good. As much as possible, I need to sit down and at least create a loose plan for what I'd like to accomplish each day, each week, each month.

5. More reading. I have been reading way too much non-fiction lately. I need to get back to my novels, the imagery, the pages that feed my creativity. So in the spirit of that, I start Portrait in Sepia by Isabel Allende tonight. (Yes, the ever-present late comer).

6. Dedicated "Days Away." Spouse and I agreed that every other month or so we'll try to go get a room and just have time out for ourselves. It ain't about the sex, it's about having Time Out. We'll start a little kitty, not going to be anyplace expensive. We've even agreed to switch up, maybe one of those times either he or I will just go by ourself. I can go for that.

So, the actual birthday went well. Spouse and I broke bread (literally) with my brother and his wife, my sister and her man at a neat little Ethiopian spot in D.C.'s Adam's Morgan. It was a first for Spouse and I and though the set up was cool, I don't care for the idea of eating with my hands from a huge shared bowl of food. I know the cultural concept and I know the significance of eating from one bowl (in Saudi it's the same thing) but I don't care for it. Plus the fact, as I tried to explain to my brother who's lived in Saudi and Thailand and a host of other places (no, he's not military) and enjoys exotic food -- I don't like anything that sets my mouth aflame such that I have to chug damn near a gallon of water. Now, I love Mexican and I like Thai, but some Ethiopian dishes are like eating fire. Plus the fact, like my son, if food smells strange I have a hard time eating it, which is why I don't eat Indian cuisine. There's something about the smell that really makes me nauseated and suspicious. Oh well. And so after dinner, Spouse surprised me with reservations at a beautiful waterfront hotel with a harbor view and treat of all treats -- grandma kept the kids!

Damn, is this what a good nights rest feels like?

So we had a great weekend together and I'm glad to be in this space. I'm thankful for the sisters I have here online whose openmindedness pushes me forward. And I'm thankful for the few I have here in this town who do the same. A few is good enough, I realize, after my week's worth of reflection. Anything more would be too much.

9:52 and time to hit the hay. There's work to do and solitude to jump into tomorrow.

Be good,
----A.