I have been writing since early childhood, my over-active imagination–as I have been informed, landing me in front of teachers, principals and angry parents on more than one occasion growing up. I was taught early and often that one never puts down on paper what one doesn’t want the whole world to know. Apparently that lesson didn’t stick because I have been furiously outing myself of late. I am a product of the 50’s raised in the school of “Prim, Proper and Ladylike”, suddenly finding myself in my 60’s, wondering how I got here so quickly. I am working hard at being comfortable with my own vulnerability, living in my own soft body of being enough–finally and with some relief as I begin the dissolving process towards the finality of life here on earth. No one really knows when that will come–my mother-in-law started giving things away in preparation for that day thirty years before her death. I think she was very surprised that it took so long. So in honor of my impending death whenever, I am giving my words away, my amazement, my bewildering confusions, my chaos and order, the beautiful bitter sweetness of it all–I am writing it all down. It’s time to tell the truth.
Not so easy. Not that I have The Truth For All Time to tell, but my own little corner of it. You should try it if you haven’t already. Like pulling wisdom teeth sometimes, but funny how some things stop hurting so much when you yank them out!
There have been risks taken in these 60 years, skidding now into my 61st year of life. You should know I don’t regret a single one of them. There are others I have yet to take. One is here, now. Not everyone will be delighted, especially if they find themselves written on to my pages. I hope others will find some kind of transformation, some kind of healing or recognition of themselves in the words I write, not always so polite, but that will hopefully land on the soul of understanding.