Stuck

So often we pretend we're not stuck- not stuck in our writing, not stuck in our ruts, not stuck in the middle of a crisis. We pretend we're okay, at least around most of the people we know, and sometimes within ourselves. How many times do you say "I'm okay," when asked how you are? Even if things suck and you want to cry or throw a toaster across the room or hide in bed for a year? Wouldn't it be nice to be honest around everyone? We should feel more comfortable saying "I'm not okay," and getting a brief but heartfelt hug from a friend or acquaintance. It would help us all, at least a little, and bond us. We need to trust that people can handle honesty and respond with compassion. They can look into our eyes and say they feel for us. They can let us know they understand. And once in a while, they can unhook our claws from the curtain.

The Table

My problem is not doing laundry, but folding it and putting it away. I'm regularly running down to the basement to grab a shirt or shorts or towel from The Table, an ordinary card table buckling under the weight of all those clean jumbled things. Dave will say, "If you have time, you know, sometime today, there's a load of towels on The Table," and I'll cut him off with, "I know! I know! I know!" Dave is a man who does his own laundry, washes more dishes than I do, and generally cleans more, so he's allowed to drop hints or suggestions about The Table and its contents. And I ignore them. I do like drawers full of easy-to-find clothes, but being a creative person, I guess I don't see the point of folding and transferring them when I could be doing one of a million more interesting things. My hand reaches toward The Table and stops- really. And I think about grinding some Guatemalan coffee beans or checking out Ben's ant farm or writing a poem. I've also never heard the laundry complain. I imagine all the clothes happily snuggling together like a pile of cats. And I get exercise every time I need a shirt. Plus, once in a while, I like to think I'm so busy having a Meaningful Life that taming the laundry is maybe even beneath me. So...is this a problem? Or is The Table actually a solution, somewhere to go when I need confirmation that Life is full and wonderful and so many mundane things can wait? That may be the real reason I leave it the way it is- because I know! I know! I know!

Luna Moth

The day I met my first luna moth reminds me of what it means to be a writer. I was standing at the side of a lake when the gorgeous creature literally landed in the water in front of me, struggling to save herself. I lifted her and without even thinking about it, set her on the front of my shirt to dry her wings. Right over my heart. She waited, and lifted her wings a bit; she waited some more. She knew when the time was right. When it was, I lifted her on one finger and she flew high, high, high into the trees. What a magical moment.

It's important for us as writers to dry our wings, to wait until our words are truly ready to venture into the world. When they are, who knows how far they'll go? And when we struggle, may we all find someone to lift us from the water and give us shelter until we're ready to fly.