First and foremost, happy Mother’s Day to all the moms, grandmoms, aunt moms, pet moms, and dad moms in the crowd. Here in Ohio, it’s (wait for it…) rainy, cold, and cloud-covered, which may put a damper on outdoor gatherings, but if you’re lucky enough to still have your mom in your life, be grateful for the opportunity to talk or visit to thank her.
Thanks for stopping back to read my weekly treatise despite me not having posted any writing (with the exception of these notes) lately. I miss writing. Let me clarify: I miss creative writing. I am teaching a seven-weekend workshop course on healing grief and loss through journaling, yoga, meditation, and the chakras starting in June, so my writing time has been dedicated to putting that together. I am beyond excited, though. It amazes me to think that at this time last year, I wasn’t even a yoga teacher, and in another month, I will add my meditation teacher certification to my yoga teacher certification I earned in December. That my passions have woven themselves together with writing amazes me. In fact, while I haven’t admitted this to anyone else, this course is actually starting to whisper itself into a book. Only time will tell, right?
One thing I’ve found interesting this week (quite honestly, on and off over the past year or so) is the repetition of singular words (sometimes phrases) in my daily life, in situations that are completely unrelated. I can’t help but wonder if this is just a side effect of being a writer, or if it should mean something to me. (In journaling about it, I believe the latter is true, at least for me.) Here’s an example: two weeks ago while writing here, at the coffeeshop, actually, two women were having a conversation loud enough to repeatedly interrupt my writing process. I tried to block them out as best I could, as I tend to go into a meditative type state when I am engrossed in writing, but every now and then they would burst through with some innane story of their kids or whatever, and take my focus from the page. After I’d managed to blot them out and write for a fairly long block of time, I realized the piece I was working on needed a break. Frustrated, I paused, and through their conversation, I only heard one single word: profound.
Immediately I wrote it down, the feeling of it more important than the meaning of it. In the moment, I journaled on it for quite a few pages, wrapped up everything and took myself home. As that week unfolded, however, I found myself coming back to the word as it was brought up multiple times in multiple circles of my life. A few conversations with teachers, in my yoga class, in a meditation training (several times), a friend I discuss deep spiritual issues with…people who don’t know each other all had ‘profound’ on the ends of their tongues. I just took note, because it’s not a word that I normally encounter in life. Naturally, my brain is still processing and playing with profound, so maybe this week we’ll have a word-of-the-week on the blog and see what we’re all thinking at a collective level.
And maybe I’ll choose to go put on a fuzzy sweatshirt, curl into a ball on the sofa and take a nap until it’s time to meet mom for dinner this afternoon. Not exactly profound, but a way to cope with this cold rain…
Wishing you a wonderfully profound week of words 🙂
One thought on “Dear Reader 5.9.21”
and to you, the other beth!
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