I walked CJ to the school bus this morning, and noticed our paired footprints on the way home. And that's my teeny-tiny attempt at positivity regarding this January-in-April weather we've been "enjoying." I run outdoors all winter long, and this morning's run was one of the coldest all year, thanks to a bitter wind and sharp flecks of snow. I've also got a hole in my running tights, and I'd really like to retire them for the season. Yes, that's a first-world-white-woman problem, right there.
What was I going to blog about? I had ideas.
A blog is a nice place to gather one's thoughts, I find. Maybe that's why I don't really want to stop. There's a scrapbook mentality to this blog: every day is different, but every day is also focused and structured by the necessity of being and expressing where I'm at right now.
I read a piece in Maclean's this morning about meditation, about using our minds to come to terms with ourselves. That is totally not the quote. I'll go get the magazine. Here it is: Meditation is "a dignified attempt to come to grips with being human with the resources you have right there. Not depending on some guru, or some drug, or some psychotherapy. Just a very simple technique that, repeated again and again and again, will eventually change the way you relate to the world at the deepest level." The person being quoted is Jeff Warren, a Toronto meditation teacher and journalist, who sounds like he could be guru-like, but who doesn't like gurus. I, too, distrust the guru figure, even while acknowledging that I can learn much from mentors and teachers ... I think it's a fear of idolatry, but maybe it's a fear of dependence, too, because I also dislike self-help books, or anyone claiming to be able to fix anyone else's life. And yet I feel myself drawn to writing a self-help-like book -- collecting and distilling all of the bits and pieces of discovery that keep me going and keep me digging -- which seems super-hypocritical. I'm simultaneously pulled toward looking for ways to find and express a more meaningful life, and resistant to latching on to a single path or expression. As an individual, my path is singular, my voice is singular, there's no way around that. Maybe that's why I like fiction: it allows me to embody and express a wide variety of opinions and beliefs, none of which may be exactly my own.
Back to Maclean's magazine (awkward segue), I've discovered a new (unpaid) talent: writing letters to the editor. I rattled off a critique of their deliberately inflammatory headline a few weeks back, in which a screaming toddler was labelled with the question: "Is she a brat or is she sick?" Ugh, I thought. Stop it with the name-calling! She's neither, of course: she's a normal toddler. That's the gist of my letter and they printed it.
As I put in a load of laundry this morning, I thought, I often write from a position of response rather than call. I react to what exists with emotion and opinion. The non-fiction essays I've written have almost all been assigned rather than originated and pitched by me. This has been a stumbling block to my freelance writing career. When I write an essay on an assigned subject, I never know where I'm going to end up, but I know it's going to be a fascinating exploration of unexpected territory. I know also that these thoughts and discoveries wouldn't exist without someone else inviting me to make them exist. It burns a lot of energy to come up with an idea and spin it into existence, all on my own steam. This may be my downfall, as a writer, my Achilles' heel, the personality flaw impossible to overcome.
But that's okay.
Because my goal is to make writing my comfort zone, my place of meditation and peace, and not my bread and butter. I'd like to stop complaining about not making money as a writer. (I'm sure you'd appreciate that too.)
I'd like to free my writing from the burden of earning.
I have a feeling that particular complaint will never vanish, no matter how long I work at writing. The tension between creativity and a comfortable lifestyle is built right into the artistic enterprise. I, personally, can't imagine how to change the system so that creative energies are compensated in a steady and reliable way. I've tried! I just can't imagine it. And while I'm appreciative of the important role grants have played in supporting my work, I really hate asking for money. Just hate it. I want to earn my living, plain and simple.
Labels: blogging, freelance, letters, midwifery, money, running, snow, spirit, spirituality, spring, work, writing