Monday morning is here and with it the last days of March. The expected winter storm is headed our way and the skies are gray and foreboding. Just a little over a week ago we had the first rains of spring. Between the rains the drops hung from the bare branches of the trees, glistening in the sun like small round diamonds. Now we are back to the normal colder weather of the season but still the earth warms and the days grow longer.
This weekend it came to me why it has been such a struggle to write even the smallest of words. Over the past months it has been focused on writing for others rather than myself. As I tried harder to write, I became increasingly restricted, guarding and pruning my words carefully to please those who might be reading. It is impossible to reach deep into the soul if you feel you are being watched. My goal is to write for myself again, to write as if no one is watching, with abandon. Whether I will accomplish the remains to be seen. I do not want those who visit to leave. It is my task to find the way to lose myself again in another world.
Last night I had some grand things started, but the interruptions of life kept me away from any chance of writing. Now I remember thoughts of falling through time, thoughts I will revisit when I am rested from a hard nights work. Now I must go to that rest before I make some ridiculous mistake I will end up correcting after I am awake.