A New Year has meant a fresh start for me. All too often, I suppose. Another fresh start, and another failure.
But I figure the more failures I rack up, the more often success will slip through the cracks. Perhaps, it would be even better would be to learn not to see things in terms of successes and failures, but experiences.
Yeah. That’s probably not going to happen.
I haven’t written here about the details why I derailed this year. And I’m not going to do that now, except to say that in late summer I had a perfect storm of physical conditions that lead to a deep vein thrombosis in my pelvis. Healing is as much a mental process as a physical one, and healing never means returning unchanged to the previous status quo.
My little mid-life existential crisis became a very big existential deconstruction.
I’ve been dragging the past few months. Still writing and still journaling – and true to the goal of proprioceptive journaling, I’ve been tearing down the metaphors to get at the roots of the words. Words like “dragging” are clichés, and it takes work to get back to the experiential, sensual imagery that they should call up.
Dragging has been hard work. Uncomfortable. But it’s probably been a good thing. It’s given me some necessary distance from my unconscious habits.
All that as a preface to say: I’m separating my personal life from my professional one. I hope that the few readers I’ve had who are interested in the correspondence I’ve had with Richard, Di and Carolee regarding the search for the “good life” will follow me here.
This webpage will be redesigned as a portal for my poetry books/plays/monologues, the
occasional weekly review/commentary on literature or teaching, and the This Choice Podcast (with a new format).
Thank you for reading.