Living each day much muchier
We find by losing. We hold fast by letting go. We become something new by ceasing to be something old
I finished a diary last weekend and am about to start writing in a new book. Each time this happens, it feels in some small way like New Year’s Eve. The woes of the former diary are a thing of the past, shoved into a box in my cupboard with all the past pains and exaltations. Blank pages have the hope of fortuity and adventure. Like the opening scenes of a novel, a new diary ought to begin with a narrative of change and fresh challenge.
Unfortunately, I’m in a holding pattern right now. Sure, there are episodes – or perhaps escapades might be better – but there is no new path, new scene or self-image I want to become. 2009 has been like a doorway year, not quite in one place yet not in the other. I’ve been sitting in an airport lounge, gazing out the window toward another country that I can’t quite access yet.
So, what will I write when I sit down with my cup of tea, my pen and a fresh book? Novels all begin differently, I suppose. Sometimes their opening pages are life as usual for the lead character and little does she know the drama about to unfold.