After almost two years of nudging and agonizing, my draft manuscript of "the memoir" is now out of my hands, sent off to be scrutinized by one of my writing teachers. I finally found a title I loved for this book, and I scoured back and forth through its pages for the last couple of weeks to make it look as tidy as I could. The theory was: if you work hard on the exterior cleaning, then cleaner, more ordered, more honest writing will emerge! Hope so. It was an interesting exercise, all that close focus ... good for the brain. The book's name is: Bowing to Elephants; Discovering Myself in the Landscape of Memory. Paying homage to elephants makes a lot of sense to me, as they conjure two important themes for me: memory and maternal character. And I happen to wholeheartedly love those beasts, and appreciate them being front and center in my book. It's an unorthodox little work, but I have to admit I am rather fond of it, and proud of myself too that I came up with 215 pages that really look like a book! We'll see........
As I look around my house I find reminders everywhere of my passion for the hallowed past, the soft textured landscape that came before. There are old paintings and drawings, old books, antique Buddhas, a beautiful old baby grand piano, an ancient dining room table, and the list goes on. On the wall by my desk a pastel drawing of when I was about six, a black and white photograph of my dad as a very young boy, and a couple of contemporary images (print-outs) of the man I first loved when I was all of 14. I seem to be addicted to stumbling around in my memory and ruminating about things that happened long ago; an astrologer long ago cautioned me not to get stuck in the past, and did I listen? Guess not. As I said yesterday to my chiropractor, I find many aspects of the past a lot more interesting and comforting to reflect on than what surrounds me today in 2015. People's manners were better, culture was revered in many ways, books were more important than television, people dressed up to go to fine restaurants or a concert, and human beings treated each other with more respect and gentleness ... and so on ... As I consider a second book to take up, I think of the life of my grandmother Dimond who was born at the turn of the 20th century and lived for 89 years, and was the person most responsible for my current wisdom and sanity. If I took up her life, I would AGAIN journey back in time (where I have been journeying these last two years!) to consider the culture she lived in and the conditions that shaped her personality, which was, by the way, a remarkable personality, a larger than life character. So, do I look back some more? And if I do, will it pull me away from what is going on around me now?
When I took a leave of absence from my hospice job, and thought about the opportunity to gain some perspective on my life journey going forward, I think I imagined I might write another book, make jewelry again, take some more trips of course, and take up the piano again ... all of these opportunities to engage in my present, not my past. I want, I need to be involved in creative work, but not rush forward with a manic "must do" attitude. I want to see my path as a full and rich one, filled with inspiration, energy, lovingkindness, and beauty. Maybe just pausing briefly now and looking at the whole picture would be helpful. There is no rush, after all. That is one of the beautiful pieces that I learned when I was a volunteer caregiver -- it was one of our core precepts. When someone is on the brink of dying, there is no need for rushing, sounding alarms, and moving quickly to fix something, because there is nothing to fix really. Only comfort and love to be given.
So, I perhaps will treat my own "future" like that, do a little contemplating, and then move forward with clarity and interest. There's comfort in that. I like the idea of picking up things you have temporarily discarded, picking them up and seeing how they feel NOW. How different is it really? Do you still love it the way you did? A very interesting exploration. When I kept returning to the pages of my book to revise and polish, I kept seeing new and different things show up, and so I tweaked and fiddled. And then set it down. And then returned to do that all over again... We keep changing, and what we scratch out on the page one day may not be what we will love and be excited about a week down the road! This all requires terrific patience, this being with the process, and trusting yourself. I think I'll give it a try ... no big decisions now, just reflecting and appreciating and gently inclining my mind to stay in the present.
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