Okay, so I’ve been quite remiss in posting to my blog for the past . . . Wow! has it been three weeks already? Quelle horreur! (Haven’t a clue how I knew that meant “that’s terrible/how awful!” Mr. Oppenheimer, Kitwe High’s French teacher’s doing?)
The truth is I’m not always thrilled about blogging, well, once I get in there and do it and hit my stride, I soar and it feels so good, but getting there can be agonizing. However, this time I’ve got a good excuse for being otherwise occupied. I’ve been consumed with getting my memoir, Loveyoubye ready for publication with She Writes Press. It was such a relief to finally make that decision. And so far I’m finding they’re a class act. Plus I like the idea of having their “stable” of writers, with whom I can compare notes. (I haven’t done that yet, but it’s available.)
I had to get an author photo taken–painful–write a bio, a book description, and come up with ideas for the book cover. The latter, my friends has been interesting. Once I primed the pump, all these ideas for images came up. The book cover is a major deal.
But here’s an even bigger issue, committing to this final stage of getting my story out there brought back all those worries I had in the beginning and along the way. Will my story, the writing of which was a life raft at the time, hurt anyone, and do I honestly want the world to see me naked and vulnerable? It’s an uncomfortable place to be. But I find myself pressing forward. Is it my Taurean nature at work here, to persist because that’s what’s next? Or is there something else? Do I need to lay it on the line because someone else, maybe just one person can relate, can see herself, even himself in my experience, and feel a kinship and find comfort and hope? Lofty ideals, I know, but I believe that if you’re turning yourself inside out to find your own truth, you will touch someone else.
So. Damn the torpedoes. Off I go.
I was sitting in my writing studio, deeply engrossed in an edit of my memoir, Loveyoubye, when a gust of wind caught the bell and it clanged. Just once. I stopped mid sentence. The sound, somewhere between a cowbell and one of those German beer hall bells, sounded clear and pure like never before. It filled my brain, shoving out everything else that was in there. I stared into space. The note lingered in my head then carried me to thoughts of Billie, my dear spiritual mentor, who passed away a couple of days earlier. I could see her, sitting in her chair speaking of the wisdom of the ages, excluding none of the religions or philosophies, instead expanding upon them, revealing the heart of each, beyond the form, beyond the dogma. How it is up to each one of us to adopt a loving heart and to consciously become receptive to that greater truth that unites us all. Brotherhood. She sounded a note so clear and strong that a path was blazed for others to follow, just like each one of us must do. Like Paolo Soleri, a man of vision and dedication is doing. His bell reminded me of this today.