#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Charles River Morning

Gave myself a morning off from a swim. Sore and tired. A good day for a bit of rest. And an excellent walk. The balmy air, so warm, silver dome. Dampness of course. Puddles on red and gold leaves carpeting the ground. The pleasant sense of rot. Thinking over my dream from last night, which I wrote down. I am being intentional with dreams and writing to explore images and messages and mysteries are being revealed. Big insights being uncovered. There are many leaves to be raked, sticks to be picked up, the garden to be cleaned up and put to bed. All the clutter of fall. And this isn’t where my energy is. My energy is in the writing. Doors open and a tender breeze blowing in. I cannot be in two places at once. I choose. Get my blog sent off to the Transformative Language Arts Network about my next monologue course, later in October. I go to the poems, the ones Vanessa has commented on. I fiddle around. Feel irritated and stuck. But stay with it. Her suggestions are good, and I can trust them. She says: cut this out and go to a new place. I do that, and just trust and let it go, and a new place happens. Whether it belongs there, in its current state, who knows. But it felt good. Breaking through something. I walked to Kingsbury to meet Frank after his tennis. I passed a turtle, a snapper skeleton, and wanted a picture, it was on gravel and was fascinating. But my phone died just at the moment I clicked. Frank and I drove a half hour to get take out to bring home and had a great talk, as I knew we would. Later he said to the kids, we didn’t mind going, because we had a great talk, and I was pleased that he felt it too. We watched Theatre Camp and had some wonderful laughs. No dishes to do. Just fun relaxation.

But, of course, there is such terrible news today, too. And we have peace in our home. And what kind of prayer can be said for all who are suffering in Israel and Gaza? The children. The children. The children.