Aging is a way to "forget your perfect offering." What I mean is, I must accept and show up with this imperfect, aging, sagging body----but a body that functions, that serves me, that takes me places! I am shedding illusions, about how quick-witted I am, for example. I am setting things down. I sound young, I suppose, to be discussing shedding, but as I age, I feel that I become more like myself, the self that existed when I was a very young child, the self teeming with wonder and softness. I am shedding all that's not mine, all the bullshit poses I adopted and adapted to in order to survive.
Well, I am doing some of this. I am on my way.
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I just offered some advice about writing. I told Nicole to write in heat, to remain loose and to not allow the cruel, hard voice inside her head to dictate the lines, but then, to edit with a cold eye, much later on.
I believe this, and yet it takes me a good while to loosen up. At the moment, I am working on showing up, each day, hitting the page. The next goal: writing until I surprise myself.