Its windy today.
Somedays my heart aches for things that I don't even comprehend. There is no words to define the ache. No clear thought of what it is. No tangible thing, really.
At times I read a lot. Sometimes the reading is too much. It takes you away from your own reality. Living your life through other peoples stories instead of your own. Not making your own story, or writing your own story, for that matter. It's like how people do that movie marathon thing, never could do it. I want it to be real for me. (Except when you are stuck in leigh creek and bored and 13).
I will read my heart out for six months, then stop for six months. I want to develop my own style of writing and step into it. To walk it and breathe it. I want to be free of the overwhelming inspiration of others. I want to find my own inspiration, from with in me. Its beautiful to be inspired. But, to be inspired to be your own inspiration, is even better.
People used to say I was off with the fairies..(dad). But I never have been. I am just thinking and processing all of what's around me. Some people find it hard to just sit and see and feel. They seem to always want to be doing. A time spent sitting and talking and thinking is just as useful and meaningful as anything else in your life. Truly is.
Thats the beautiful thing about Africa. The seamless time of life. The African people see this, they know it. The way time is used to stop and talk and sit. The way nothing is ever a rush. To stand or sit at the end of streets and talk and watch. And guess what, things get done too.
I know how to rush of course.. I rush everyday. I rush to clean. I rush to cook. I rush the kids in the door. I rush the kids out the door. Sometimes rushing to eat and sometimes rushing to sleep.
My husband rushes all day long at work. Management, mining, 24 hour work, money lost in losing time, you know. Rush. We westerners are rushers. We think we making the most out of every moment.. But mostly just rushing through life, to get to the end that no one really wants to get to, anyway.
Sometimes answers do not come easy to me. There are things I want to fix or change. But I am easily sated. Usually. I want a burning passion, but I think its more like a slow burn. It will take time.
I have jobs to do today. I will do those jobs. I will get them done. But I am tired of rushing my children.
I have never written for anyone or for anything. I have never had the expectation of getting a written piece done for deadlines or to write a story in a certain amount of words. I kinda meander and think and write and finish when it feels right, in my gut. ( Or when some other little human's are demanding my attention..)
I think there are things I could learn about writing and grammar, for sure. Hell, there is so many things to learn about myself. Fear. Anger. Love. Parenting. Especially anger. Yes. Anger I have. Just ask my husband and children.
But I am trying to keep it 'me' still. So it feels like me, so it fits the souls of my feet when I walk a story out....... In the paddock or in the bush. Inspiring myself, and to trust in me. To get there, in my own words.
To let the words walk out of me, and into life.
Oh and there is always Instagram, where images help tell a story, kinda of.... My attraction with images is one I am trying to work out. Wishing it would sort of pass soon.
(Did any of that make any sense anyway?)