Day 28

 

This comes from the Gr. 6 class I subbed in today. 

Prompt: I walked down the dry dirt path, the dead bushes still burning. Near the horizon, I saw a blinding, glowing, red, diamond-shaped thing. 

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My ears were ringing from the explosion that happened only moments before. The ground was still shaking, and the air filled with an acidic smell. Outside, screams and cries for help began to swell in volume. What just happened? I felt the building around me begin to shudder. Get out! One thought flashed through my mind - get out! 

I stumbled outside. The air was filled with smoke and ash; in the distance, there were flames shooting out of a nearby building. What had just happened? Where did this come from? There was no warning, no alarm that said something was coming. Why didn’t the city sound an alarm? What was this? 

A man appeared in front of me, covered in soot. He almost didn’t look like a man. He looked like a ghost. With just his black eyes glazed and staring.

“Adam? Adam, is that you?” I called out. 

“Marcus? What just happened? What’s going on?” 

“I have no idea. Was this a bomb? Was this the beginning of an invasion? Was it something else?” 

“My house is gone,” he wept. 

“Come, let’s get out of here. If there is another bomb, another something, we need to get out of here. The city’s on fire,” I called. 

I grabbed his arm. 

“I can’t, Marcus. It hurts so much,” he pulled back. 

It was then that I realized there was a massive gash in his head. The side of his face was almost gone, caked over with the soot. His clothing was soaked in blood, and coated with the ghostly dusting of the building remains from around us, still floating to the ground. Like snow, but not. 

I couldn’t wait, I turned and ran. I didn’t know where, but I had to get out of there. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

I don’t know how long I ran, but eventually, the hazy skyline was behind me. Along the road, I saw cars in the ditch - some were overturned and burning, others were piled together in a mangled, metal mass of chaos. I didn’t want to look too closely, to see if anyone was still inside. I know I should, especially if someone was still alive, but I couldn’t stomach seeing what else I might find in a vehicle. All down the highway, bushes were still burning. Did the explosion reach this far out of the city? What happened? 

In the distance, I noticed a glow in the sky. Different than the ashy smoke over the city - red and gold. A fire? Or something else? I decided to head towards it. Maybe I could figure out what happened. Maybe I could make sense of this.

The closer I got, the more the amber glow filled the sky. Soon, I could start to make out a blinding, glowing, red, diamond-shaped thing. A huge thing. Not a saucer, not a tank, not a building … a thing. That’s the only way I can describe it. And I couldn’t even tell if it was human or not. 

Day 7

 Prompt: Eye Contact - two people seeing each other for the first time. 

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Maggie didn’t know what she was doing here. A blind date. Online dating. How had our world got to this point? Where people no longer meet in ‘normal’ places like community events or church gatherings? Well, I guess that this was the new ‘normal place’. MatchDate.com. Maybe there weren’t many community events anymore and who really went to church, anyway? 

She had met Nick on the site about a month ago. They had both starred each other and that led to the opportunity to exchange messages. He seemed like a nice guy. Divorced, no kids, a rescue dog. He owned his own home and had a decent job in the IT industry. Some form of stability was important for her. The messages they had exchanged were light and fun, no sexual overtones, just two people trying to figure out if they had something in common. This was the next step.

The door to the coffee shop opened. Maggie looked up to see a young child and what looked like her mother coming in. Nope, that wasn’t him. His photos were pleasant to look at, and when she talked with him on the phone, his voice matched the pictures. Though they had not video-chatted, she was ok with this. A bit nervous, but ok. She just hoped he was a person of integrity and would, soon, come through that door. Being stood up was not fun. 

The door opened again. This time, a ‘normal-looking’ man entered. He looked around, and this time she was sure it was him. Their eyes connected, and he smiled briefly. She smiled and waved back. This was him. 

As he made his way around the tables, she examined his appearance. Nice jeans, no rips. Nice lace-up shoes, black leather. A T-shirt and a casual jacket. His hair was light with small flashes of silver on his temples, and a small scruff of facial hair. And glasses. He looked up as he came closer. Their eyes locked. 

Maggie was not sure if there was anything to the expression ‘love at first sight’, for it had never happened to her before. But this time, to look into those chocolate brown eyes, a jolt of something new surged through her. Never before had she seen eyes with that depth. To get ‘lost in his eyes’ was no longer a colloquial expression but a real experience. The world stopped. 

“Maggie?” He asked. His voice was almost as rich as his eyes. Why had she not noticed that before? 

She stuttered for a second. “Yes, I’m Maggie,” she managed to get out. “Nick, I presume?”

“That’s me! Nice to finally meet you,” he smiled and reached his hand across the table to shake hers. 

She stood and took his hand. Firm and warm. She noticed that his teeth were white and his smile was warm and encouraging. As she sat down, she closed her eyes. Needing to get a bearing on the situation, no use getting all twitter-pated over this first meeting. After all, she wasn’t a schoolgirl anymore. 

She looked up and their eyes met again. There is something about looking into the eyes of another human being that always caused her to pause. Behind those eyes was always a real person - with dreams and goals, with stories and experiences. Therein was humanity at its core, its essence. 

“Thank you for meeting me today,” Maggie said softly. “It’s nice to meet you, too, after this last month. I hope this place is ok?” 

“It’s great. I often stop here for a coffee and sometimes even get through a few more chapters of whatever book I’m currently reading. Those chairs over there are my go-to,” he said, pointing to two over-stuffed chairs by a fake fire. 

“Oh? You enjoy reading?”

“A favourite pastime of mine!” 

“If you want, we could relocate there? They do look comfy!” She smiled with a pleasant rush of excitement. 

With that, they left the table and claimed the chairs that seemed to be made for first meetings and fell into an easy conversation on books, movies, and other topics of common interest. The time flew and coffee flowed with a comfortable rhythm.

Day 6

 Prompt: "An immobile time not marked on clocks." 

(C. Baudelaire)

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She knew that nothing would be the same after this moment. The world froze and time stopped. 

Rumours had been swirling for months, she could even remember instances when news reports had said something that made her wonder what were they really talking about. But nothing was ever certain. Nothing was ever said to the people. Everything was done behind closed doors. People who had power knew; no one else did. 

She looked out the window. All the cars had pulled over, and there was no movement in the streets. Even the people had stopped walking and were looking around with faces mixed between curiosity and horror. 

Inside the school, everyone was looking towards the PA system on the wall above the whiteboard. Even the teacher had frozen with the textbook in hand. Josie's pen was held midair as she was in between writing another word in her notebook - that wouldn't matter anymore. Marco's head had popped up from his routine nap in this class, and he wasn't napping anymore either. 

This moment, frozen in time, would be the moment that everyone would remember as years and decades pass. This moment marked the time before and the time after. 

After about three full minutes of the siren wailing, it stopped. The silence was deafening - even the ticking that once marked time was silent, too. We all held our breath. What would come next? 

"Good afternoon, Markham High," the principal's voice came on. She couldn't tell what emotion was in his voice. It certainly was like nothing she had heard before. "Please give us your full attention. There will be an announcement coming in a minute for our information." 

The room broke into a soft buzz. She could hear whisperings of "What's going on?" and "What's happened?" and "Are we being attacked?" Ms Johnson had sat down at her desk, set the book down, and had a look of uncertainty about her. She was obviously as puzzled as we were. 

Then the announcement came. It was the voice of our prime minister. This was not coming from the interior of the school, but being broadcast throughout the nation. 

"Fellow Canadians. We have reached a momentous event in our nation's history. Our world history. This has been many years in the making and at last, the time has come. As you know, we have been slowly setting the direction for a greener world, a more sustainable world. We have been on a path of destruction for many decades. As our society has continued to use up the earth's resources, we have been putting into motion research and plans to make the transfer to a completely green and self-contained living experience. This has not only happened in Canada but throughout the globe. 

You will have 24 hours to gather your most valued possessions and will be given a location to meet for transportation to our new lives. Your personal technology will receive a message of where you are to go."

This is the first time he has spoken with coherence, she thought. Is this really our PM? or a deep fake or some sort of AI cover? She was unsure. But what she was sure of was the rising sickness inside her. 

"Do not be concerned. Everything has been planned in detail and once we are settled in our new lives, things will return to normal. I promise you - this is for the good of our planet, for the good of our nation, and the good of our people. We are one." 

And the message ended. 

Day 5

 

Prompt: She was a redheaded woman.

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The music of today is sad. Really sad. I can't believe that the music of my day has become what is on the radio now. And it's not about sex. Sex has been in music since the days of Elvis. No, what is on the airwaves (or streaming services) is quite pathetic. 

Elvis started it all with his bold sensuality that he probably didn't realize at first he had. But, as the time was right (and ripe), he tapped into something that made women go crazy. From there, it was a straight path through the ages. But here's the thing: sex was taboo for the longest time, so the music had to be subtle in how they included references to the dirty deed. The thing is ... it was there. And as music found ways to 'dance' around this, so did the music become fun and energetic, too. 

Today - there is no subtly. It's blatant and disgusting. I can't see how people can enjoy rap with the vulgar violence and sex, pain and anger. Words like: Bang-bang into the room (I know you want it) Bang-bang all over you (I'll let you have it) / Just wait a minute, let me take you there (ah) /And wait a minute 'til you (ah, hey!). This is what is popular now? Oh man ... where is the fantastic music of days gone by? 

Then - Bruce Springsteen... heartland rock music, combining mainstream rock with poetic and socially conscious lyrics that feature narratives concerning working-class American life ... or Bon Jovi, Aerosmith, Journey, Van Halen, Sting, Def Leppard ... and into the party music of KISS, who said it doesn't matter what you look like, but to rock'n roll all night and party every day.  What's happened? 

This prompt made me think of music because of a song by Bruce Springsteen, called "Redheaded Woman". What a wonderful song! As I said, yes - there's sex in it. But, it's solid, well-written music, for a fun time. You can't sit still when you listen to it, you feel good when you do. How would you explain - there's sex in the song but it's not sexy or provocative - it's fun, it's vibrant, it's unifying and full of joy. There are references to hard times, to struggle, to perseverance ... but there's little to no vulgarity in it. 

Music has changed, and I have to say I am grateful I grew up in days of good music - solid music with good messages and strong anthems for the everyman. Music unified people when I was growing up, it celebrated the everyman, the human struggle, beauty in the midst of difficulty. It spoke against world problems (music of the 60s and 70s), it got the feet tapping (music of the 80s), it allowed us to enter into times of struggle and know we weren't alone (the 90s) ... and from there, something began to happen. I don't know. I wish there were still groups like those of my time. 

Sometimes I will still come across a group that reminds me of those days, but there aren't many. It's like a piano or guitar riff, slowly fading into the distance. And, soon, it will fade to silence. 

This is not to say that everything was honky-dory and peachy-keen in my day. No, they weren't. There were many problems from drugs to alcohol to destructive life choices. But the music of my day mostly made all the shit that was life manageable. Now, it seems that the music of today only adds to the shit of life. The world we are living in, we have created. 

Day 4

 

Maybe what I should do, instead of titling the entry "Day X", just use a word for the prompt? And keep the icon? That way, anything with the icon on the left side is part of the writing exercise and I can post other entries in between. It's not about a number; it's about forming a habit. I suppose I could also tag it? We'll see. 

Prompt: Write about a Sideways Glance

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She sat on the subway train, engrossed in her novel. The heroine was kidnapped, and the hero didn't know she was gone yet. Oh, how will they be reunited? Stations came and went, and here she sat. 

A young man got on at the Greenbank Station. His day had been long, and he was overwhelmed with life. Being fired wasn't what he wished for to happen in his day, but he knew there would be a blessing in it, at some point. He hated his job, but this forced him to step away from it. He sat on an empty bench and slouched over. Thoughts of frustration and 'what now?' raced through his mind. 

As he sat there, contemplating his next move, the train started to make a squealing sound. A harsh vibration shuddered through the car and he looked outside to see if he could see anything. Sparks were flying along the wall of the tunnel they were in; something had surely got dragged under the car! Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an older woman, completely captivated by her novel. She didn't even look up at the spine-tingling sound. 

Looking up, he saw a conductor of some sort coming down the aisle. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt you; we are going to have to stop for a while. Something has gotten lodged under the train and we will need to find a way to remove it," he said. 

Muttering and indistinguishable words began a soft hum around him. He wondered what this was about. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked the conductor. 

"Not at this time, sir. Please just stay in your seat. I'm sure we'll have this resolved in a minute or two and we'll be on our way again. If we need you, someone will get .... " 

His words were broken off with an explosion. 

The car flew backward, and the space was filled with screaming and grinding of steel being pushed to its breaking point. The young man was launched across the aisle into the mother and child that were sitting there. He tried to break his fall and save the child from his full impact, but he lost his balance and the full brunt of his size fell on the mother and child. The child let out a blood-curdling howl which was drowned out by the mother's scream. A piercing shot of pain went through his arm. 

He lay there for a bit. Trying to gather his bearings. Throughout the car, there were moans and weeping. And silence. 

"Help me," a whispered voice came from in front of him. "Can anyone help me?" 

Silence. 

Even the young boy and woman he fell into were silent. The man was afraid of what that meant. He tried to move his toes from where his feet were twisted at an odd angle. He could feel them and they didn't hurt. He tried to move his lower body a bit. So far, so good. It was went he went to move the body that was on top of him that he felt the sharp pain pierce through his arm again. 

"Lady, if you can wait a bit, I'll see if I can help you. I'm stuck under something, or maybe someone, and if I can get free, I'll do what I can to help," he responded in a weak voice himself. 

"Ok," she responded. "I can't feel my legs. I can't feel anything." 

He maneuvered himself around and with his other arm, he was able to slowly push the person aside. It was obvious that the person was no longer alive - there was a huge gash on the side of his head and an empty look in the unseeing eyes. There was no movement coming from him. 

Once the young man had extricated himself from the bodies, he could see what surrounded him. Complete chaos. Blood everywhere. Body pieces. It's a wonder that he was alive! 

Day 3

 

I'm going to have to figure out another way to title these writing exercises. Numbers don't do much. Oh well - a solution for another day. 

Prompt - The place where wings unfurl.

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I've been feeling pretty low the last few days. Low on energy, low on enthusiasm, low on hope. I'm not sure why, but that's the state of my mind lately. I was driving home the other day; the roads were treacherous and snow-covered, and most of the others were driving quite slow, too. As I was stopped at a stoplight, my eyes wandered over the nearby landscape. Suddenly, a flash of desire coursed through me. I had an idea. How to get out of this funk, if nothing else. 

At the next intersection, I turned west. It didn't matter where the road would take me, but I needed to go west. Why west? That's where the mountains are. That's where the drudgery of the city leaves and the magic of the snow and scenery begins. There was still light for a couple more hours, though I could feel the cold sun start its downward fall. I still had time. 

Just outside the city a bit, there's a hike along a river that leads to a waterfall. It's at the base of the foothills that would eventually become the mountains, but it's a place I often have gone in the past. This spot is a little slice of enchantment for me, and at this time of the year, it was sure to be empty. I pulled into the parking lot. Bundling up with the winter clothes I had with me, I locked the door and made my way through the uncut snow to a bench I knew was there. It is set on the side of the river, with a small waterfall to my left and the mountains hazy in the distance to my right. The perfect spot! 

I brushed off the bench and sat. It was cold but not unbearable. I could see my breath in front of me when I breathed. All the world was silent. No car sounds, no sounds of humanity. Only nature. I could hear the river making its way under the ice that covered it. Along the banks in front of me and across the river, the snow piled up like a blanket that was pushed aside for the movement of life in between. As I listened, I could hear the muffled gurgling as the mountain stream continued through the icy world. 

I listened carefully - twittering birds, winter birds, could be heard. I could see their little forked footprints in the feathery snow nearby, so I knew they were around. Over to the right, away from the bench, I saw footprints of a more animal-sort. Now, I'm not good with footprints, so these could be a fox or a raccoon or maybe a bobcat, but I'm sure they were a bit older. They did not look fresh to me, so I did not worry. Besides, my car was just behind me so I was pretty safe. The sun was still in the sky and I know most animals will come out nearer to sunset. I didn't plan to stay much longer. 

I sat there. Breathing in the crisp mountain winter air, breathing out my citified, depressed mood. In the vibrancy and life and beauty, out the drudgery and listlessness and loss. In the enchantment and ethereal and pristine, out the morose and lethargy and stagnation. With my eyes closed, I stood, put my hands on my hips and spread my feet a bit. The "Wonder Woman Pose." I continued with my conscious breathing and listening. I could smell the pine trees around me, the freshness of the world, the crystal icyness of the snow. I could hear the distant twittering and the cracking of the branches nearby. Yes, something was shifting

I continued to stand in silence, in my state of meditation and commune with this world, and I felt it begin. A slow release, like the slow opening of a flower in the sun. An unfurling of a closed and tightly wound coiled spring, slowly letting go, slowly relaxing, slowly grounding. I could feel my chest begin to breathe deeper, I could feel the muscles in my shoulder release, I could feel my feet and legs reaching down and out to feel the earth beneath them. 

And, as the shift inside my body began, so, too, could I feel things rearrange themselves in my mind and my heart. My life circumstances had not changed, but in these last few moments, it was like the fresh mountain air did a housecleaning inside. My thoughts were clearer, my heart was more open. I could feel hope begin to blossom again, return to me. Ideas began to nudge themselves forward and it was time to head home.  

On the drive back, I realized that this was something I needed to do regularly - visit a place for my soul. If I could recreate something in my home, that would work, too, but nothing surpasses the return to the land, regardless of the season. Each season holds its own magic and that is truly what nourishes my soul, my heart, and helps me see a way through the depression that is so much a part of my reality. Learning how to live with this and find ways to break through is part of my task; obtaining the skills and the self-awareness for when those moments come is a gift I can give myself. 

Day 2

 

Prompt: Write about an unfamiliar subject.

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He lay in the grass, watching through the window. There they were - such a beautiful family! The mother, the father, two children, and the dog clambering around their feet. He sighed. He hoped that tonight would be the night but maybe not. Not yet.  One more night of watching. He crept closer, trying to listen in through the window. 

"Mom, can I sleep over at Susie's tomorrow?" the girl asked. k

"I'm not sure, dear," the mother answered. "Your father is going away on a business trip tomorrow and I think you should stay home until he comes back." 

"Aww, but moooom," the girl whined. 

"Let me think about it," she said as she passed the bowl of potatoes to her left. 

The father away? Hmm, the man in the grass thought. That might be a good night to do this! 

"Carol," the father said, "if she wants to go, let her go. You'll have the dog and James home with you. And you can be the man-of-the-house." He looked at his son with a smile. The boy looked to be about 10 years old. 

"Of course I can, Dad," he said with a bit of pride in his voice.  

The man in the grass made no motion. He was now certain that tomorrow would be the night. The kid looked weak, the dog ... he'd have to remember to bring a bit steak for Doggo. No problem. He continued to listen. 

"Well, maybe you're right, Bill," she answered.  "I just wish you wouldn't have to go away for this right now. You know it's the anniversary of the accident. And I'm always nervous around this time." 

"It will be ok. It's been over 10 years since the attack. I'm sure he's long forgotten by now," Bill said. "Oh, Carol, I almost forgot. Can you take me to the airport tomorrow afternoon? My plane leaves at 5 PM and I need to be there by 3:30." 

"Sure. I can get groceries on my way home. That works out well for me," she said. "You kids will be ok for a bit if I'm late?"

"Mom, can I go to Suzie's?" the little girl asked again. 

"Ok, I guess it's ok. James, will you be ok for a bit?" she asked.

"Of course, Mom," the boy replied. 

Little does he know! The man smiled. When a bitch does that to me, I won't ever forget! And she'll get what's coming to coming to her! 

With that, he slithered back until he was out of sight of the window and in the darkness of the yard. He then got up, headed to the sidewalk, and walked in the other direction to where he had parked his car. Opening the door, he slid behind the steering wheel. He thought, If I play this right, I can sneak into the house after the bitch leaves and before the kid comes home. Then, I'll be right where I need to be when the time comes! He wrote a few notes in a notebook beside him before turning off the overhead lights and starting the car. 

New Challenge Old Challenge - Day 1

I realized I still have a few Ikigai posts in near completion but still in draft form! Yikes! Gotta get those done! However, due to a creative writing class I'm taking, there is a day where we have an 'Invitation' - This day is called "Building a Commitment." And, to be honest, when I thought of what kind of 'commitment' do I need to build, the list of things rolled out in my head like a Santa Claus list of all the naughty and nice children. So, I had to pause - let's start small. Small and build from there. 

My decision is to begin daily writing. Which I have done before (Look back to Nov 2014 or Nov 2022, and you'll find two such attempts before.  That's what I want to do - using my A Writer's Book of Days by Judy Reeves, I would like to write every day. It will be the same in the sense I will pick the day's prompt, set the timer for twenty minutes, and write whatever comes for twenty minutes. It will be different because it's more about creating a practice, honouring a promise, building a commitment. So, the aim is to write a minimum of five times a week, but I cannot skip two days in a row. And, let's see how long I can go with that. After all, if I dream of becoming a writer, I need to write, right? 

To note, I will write what comes. It will start wherever it will start and it will end when the 20-minute timer goes off. At the very least, I will finish the sentence. Maybe along the way, I might be able to write a continuation! We'll see!

So, for today, the prompt is: Write about "the light of lamps and candles". I'll light a candle first, to create this 'sacred space' for this time. 

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The power just went out. There was a warning alert that came over the phones saying we might have a blackout, but who really thinks that's going to happen? Well, it happened. 

Now what? 

Here's the thing: not only is it just after midnight, but it's also the coldest night of the year so far. Hovering somewhere around -35 Celsius. Not just cold, but bloody cold! It won't be long before the chill starts creeping into this room! No space heater, no hot water bottle, no nothing. Oh, wait ... 

I head to the junk drawer to rummage around in there. All the clinking and rustling when I open the drawer reminds me that I really must clean this out one day soon. I have no clue what's in there - I'm only hoping for one thing. The red flash sends a thrill of success through my thoughts - Red Bird Wooden Matches! Yes! Now to find the candle at the back of some shelf. 

Within a few minutes, I have my feather blanket from my bed, haul it into the living room, and set up my candle on the coffee table in front of me. Not much, but it's something. Besides, who knows how long this might go? 

I strike the match - the pricking of the phosphorus ignites the match; with a whispered whoosh, it creates the teardrop shape and the burn grasps hold of the stick. From there, it is easy to transfer the flame to the candle wick, and instantly, the glow flows into the darkness around me. I sit there for a bit - watching it dance and waver, flicker and strengthen. My imagination wanders ... 

We have it so easy in many ways. Turn the knob and the room heats up, the oven warms up. Flip a switch and lights come on, coffee makers hum into action, dishwashers start. The benefits of electricity are such that we take it all for granted. But, what was it like to live in the days before electricity? I'm sure there have been humans living without electricity for much longer than we have been living with! 

What would my life look like? this room look like? if there was no electricity? Well, I think for starters, there would be a fireplace. My father was a bricklayer and built many fireplaces, but how many homes have one now? Oh, you can't! Air pollution! Global climate problems! Well, if it's life or death, I'll take a fireplace over not! Man, would I love to have one now! 

I look down at the feather blanket - natural fibers. No polyester or synthetics - cotton and feathers. And, as I pause, I can feel my body heat starting to build a lovely cocoon of warmth around me within the blanket shawl. Yes, they had these. I probably could put on some more clothing under, warm longjohns they were called, maybe a toque and scarf. And, the more natural fibers, the better. Now, natural fibers in clothing come with a ridiculous cost. Like electric cars, who can afford them? 

The candle. This is what formed the foundation of their light, I'm sure. In buildings, after the sun went down, to read and write by candlelight. I remember seeing some beautiful lamps in the museum I once visited. The wick area was dark and the glass protector still had a haze of soot on the inside. That item was well-used in its day. I wonder what kind of things it gave light to? A young girl studying her school lessons? A young man writing to his fiance? A mother reading a letter? A father reading the bible? And, I'm sure there were many days that lamp shone over people who were cold and maybe even a bit dejected. Life would not have been easy. But they continued. They came together to help each other.

And yet, we struggle with how horrible our lives are! How miserable and hopeless we feel when we view our lives! FML is an acronym I often see.  This is the life that is so hopeless? I'm sure that our ancestors, in the middle of their misery (which had a lot more ugly than we have!), still had hope. It might have been small, it might have been barely a spark, but I'm sure they felt it. Not every day, but I'm sure it was occasionally there. They still had beautiful days. I wonder what they had that we don't have? 

I think there's lots that they had that we don't have - community, family, resilience, perseverance, faith. A lot of those things we have put aside because they're too 'old fashioned'. We're too 'advanced' for that. We have computers and electricity! We have electric cars! Well, look at what happens when we take away that one small piece. What happens then? 

We're back where our ancestors were, but without those things that kept them going ... maybe now is worse than then. I breathe out; I am starting to see my breath in front of me. Not because of the candle still flickering strongly, but because those other things are gone; those things that gave hope: community, family, resiliance, perseverance, faith. My little candle, the warmth under my blanket, the frosted breath that puffs from me, has reminded me that we really do have things good. The electricity will come again. 

Maybe it's time to find a way to bring back those other things into my life, too. The candle has reminded me of things far more important than electricity. Maybe I should go out and buy an oil lantern tomorrow - a prompt of things more important that our 'modern' times today. A nudge to hope. 

Commitment to Self - Winter Writing Sancuary

I am taking a creative writing course called Winter Writing Sanctuary with Beth Kempton. It is positively lovely!! I am enraptured with every moment and every opportunity!  

This is Day 7 - Part 2: Building: 2.3 Promising: Building a Commitment. The 'Invitation' reads: Make a promise or commitment to yourself, your writing, someone else or to the world. Write it down (this can be a few words, one powerful paragraph, or a manifesto). Later, it reads to make it public. So, I do so here.

This is what I wrote: 

There are so many things I need to make a commitment to. And, every one of them that I've done in the past, I feel that I've failed. How can I make a commitment that not only sticks but that can snowball to the other areas and things and places in my life that need commitments, too? This instantly causes a sense of overwhelm to rise in me ... to freeze up, to panic, to fret and fear, to sense the world crumbling beneath me before I even take a step. 

I am going to sleep on this and return in the morning. I will make a small commitment then. 

 --> I return. 

I've made a decision. A commitment to myself. I've thought about this and know that this will be a good thing. 

Since last night, I've been pondering what this could mean for me: "Building a Commitment." And, to be honest, when I thought of what kind of 'commitment' do I need to build, the list of things rolled out in my head like a Santa Claus list of all the naughty and nice children in the world. Rolling and rolling and never-ending. So, I had to pause and think - let's start small. Small and build from there. 

 Two things came to the top of my mind: 

 #1 - Daily Walking. I once had a friend who went for a set distance walk every day. If she 'didn't want to' (for whatever reason), she would allow herself two days per week and they could not be back to back. I know that I need to get out and walk more. So, this is a commitment I would like to make for myself. I won't create a set distance, but I will commit to walking. I won't set 5 days a week, no two days off in a row, but I will commit to 3 days a week. Let's start with that. And, with my Conqueror Challenge, I have spent a crazy amount of money, but they will all go towards this goal in some way. A reward at the end! 

 #2 - Dailing Writing. Many years ago I once gave myself a challenge: 100 days of creative writing, 20 minutes a day. It was not a success but there were good things that happened. So, the commitment here that I will make is for daily writing, but more along the lines of my friend's walking. Five days a week, and no two days are off. I will use my 'A Writer's Book of Days' for the daily prompts and write for 20 min (min). And I will do it on my blog My Challenge to New Life (l-chaya.blogspot.com). I have no set end date because this needs to be a life-long commitment. Habit creation. Start here and adapt as time goes on. I usually start things like this at the beginning of the year or month; this time, I begin today. January 14th. Not the beginning of anything. Maybe this one has a better chance of anchoring? Tracking will be part of it as well. 5:17 - need to get in a walk today! Doesn't matter how far, just get into the clothes, bundle up (it's crazy cold right now!), and out you go! The writing for today is already done! (see next entry 😁 ) 

I'll share results along the way. Let's see how this goes!