Have I said thank you lately?

I’ve been writing… drinking tea… writing some more. Book #2 (my oh-so-creative working title for this creation in process) is due in two months. Holy kamole.

(The tea of choice this week is jasmine green with a big dollop of wildflower honey and a splash of homemade cashew milk… and I’m drinking a ridiculous amount of it. I should probably keep a tea log ’cause the recipes get super-creative when I’m simmering new book ideas!)

The other day I surfaced from a long afternoon of writing and imbibing and realized I’m pretty much living my dream life… and that’s because of you.

Writers and readers have a symbiotic and dynamic relationship: I choreograph the words so that you can dance with them. Click To Tweet

 

This week’s batch of writing has focused a lot on words and finding language, which actually works to describe this wild and mysterious life.

Here’s an out-take. I cut this from the Introduction, but couldn’t quite get rid of it!

 

…Let’s start with yearning: never satisfied with the world I was given, I’ve constantly stirred the pot, allowing the full flavor of life’s richness to rise and mingle with my everyday awareness. I’ve stepped into curiosity (let’s be honest, sometimes I dragged my lazy and slumbering self into curiosity).

And since my exploration of the nooks and crannies of my life weren’t turning up any magic rings or secret doorways, reading became a constant: I’d read while eating, while walking, and even while driving, a book cracked on my lap as I waited for the rather long stop light at Morris Road and Blue Bell Pike to turn green. This compulsive reading habit expanded my imagination prodigiously and created an everlasting love of words, but didn’t get me any closer to experiencing the mysterious wonderment and expanding sense of self my favorite authors described.

Quintessence and serendipity. Esthesia and incorporeal. As I entered college and then grad school, I kept searching the words, looking for the ones which would help me transcend my ordinary life. I sought a language of the sacred in the built landscape (thus a few years of architecture school), in art (there was a year of art therapy training), in poetry (which I taught to elementary school children in Harlem), and even in the dreaming journeys of shamanism.

There were moments, sharp and fleeting, when something mysterious and powerful would grab hold of me: like when my breath would sync with that of the horse I was riding and we would become one being or when a dream was clearly more than a dream or when I walked through a ruins of an ancient town in Greece and knew with an uncanny certainty where the gardens had been and which of the surrounding hills had held watch towers…

 

As you can see, this book’s for the seekers! More to come!

Hugs—
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