But first an update on #Last90Days
30 days into #last90days and I am fair to middling. I’m drinking more water, so that’s a win. I’m writing more fiction, so that is also a win. Nanowrimo starts on Friday and I am considering another project again! A friend asked me why I don’t write comedy. “You’re so funny,” she said, “but your books aren’t.” mmm, okay. I think that’s a compliment?
So…I have had this idea bobbing around my head for a while so I might attempt it during Nano, but my plan is still to complete the second draft of The Circle, so not really trying for a win. I’ll attempt to write 1666 words a day but it might be across two projects.
I don’t believe my back is supposed to bend that way but the teacher is adamant that it will eventually. I cried in yoga today. I haven’t done that for such a long time. My body is no longer 18, I can accept that and I need to forgive myself for the transgression. My 48 year old brain bemoans how stupid I was at 18 though so I also need to forgive myself for that.
I had a rough day. I was stuck in traffic for over an hour.
boo hoo, right. #firstworldstruggle
I don’t have time to sit in traffic; I feel time rushing. I am nearly 50 and I have books to write. I wonder, most days, who the hell came up with this ridiculous thing we call society, this sad excuse for an existence we call Western Civilisation. Why do we all play along? We’re all on the little wheel, running alongside the white mice in the labs.
heavy shit, right… I’m sorry.
Return to the practice, says my teacher. The yoga asanas, breathing, my meditation practice, my mantra. Without it I am lost. Other people have other things like sports or knitting or soap operas to anchor themselves, I have yoga. My parents were right about a lot of things but their religion-fueled fear of yoga was not one of them. I don’t know who I would be if it wasn’t for yoga…
and then I demand of myself, “Who would you be today if you’d started earlier.” If I’d only stayed in that class at the university gym against mum’s wishes. If only I’d kept writing and gone to art college…
All things in the right time.
Nothing is wasted.
Would my ego have got the better of me? Almost definitely.
One day I’ll be 55 and I hope I am not looking back on all the things I didn’t do when I was 48.