Week 1
I’ve always really felt like I wanted to accomplish something kinda big, a grand project, but I am one of the worst people when it comes to follow through. I like to do so many things that I am constantly on a pivot, a person very comfortable riding the lazy susan and spinning until I’m dizzy and in great need of checking my compass for direction.
And then I turned 52 at the end of last year, and said with great indignation, “Dang it!” Yes, I really said that. It’s my cry of frustration and irritation, and it has a nice ring to it. “Dang it, I am going to get a thing done this coming year, and I am going to tell people so that they hold me to it.”
And so, I had to think to myself, what is going to keep my interest when I usually change hobbies six times before my morning shower? It has to be something that has layers, isn’t the same from week to week, but is the same enough to make it easy to do. So I decided on this:
A 52 year old woman (me of course, my blog, my project) will paint a postcard to send to a friend or a stranger, that is based on one of 52 questions I’ll write that must be answered in an essay or poem, and I will do this for 52 weeks. And at the end the year I’ll celebrate by looking back at all of my work. Then I’ll print it all up in a binder to look at any time my mental passenger starts telling me I never finish anything. I will hold this binder of future days over my head like Lloyd in Say Anything, and sing “In your FACE” and know that I am capable of doing all the things.
And so, I started week one on January 7th, 2021, completed my first postcard a day late, mailed it 3 days late, and am writing this 3 days late, but it’s ok. Crazy ideas never get a smooth start, but like a kid driving their first 5 speed, the gear shifts will smooth with time and practice. So here’s Week 1- thanks for reading.
Week 1: Who were you before you were you?
Somewhere in the soup or maybe just a splice of energy in the solar winds,
No form, no thought, just me, meaning the universe, slowly pulling in on itself
But force will pull me into a heavy shape one moment soon or past
And I’ll be expected to choose, decide, which of these random atoms I’m going to bag my magic in.
No, I don’t know that yet. I am on the cosmic breeze
Breathing the breath that has no breath,
And just being
I will forget how to do that soon
I’m not even I
And that is the ultimate peace
Then come moments like flashing light and first pain
And breath that is not like no breath
Easy like unwrapping candy, this first part
When the toys chose themselves and the crayons chose the places to fill
Thought without thought, boxes filled with promise
Now I am here and the toy-box just holds the pin to my bank account and the softener sheets and the spare keys for just-in-case
And i have forgotten how to play, dance on the solar flares
Shadows earthbound long and low
But reflections in the rain puddles shine bright, I remember that light
See yourself
Remember
Remember how to play
mac and muggi 