A Steady Fountain

I’m finding that the time I spend writing is less and less fulfilling, but in a different way than I expected. I expected to force myself to write daily and bleed at the keyboard. I did not expect that stopping would be so hard or that the time spent doing it would never seem like enough.

I’m finding that I want to do more than just blog posts. Hence, my stab at poetry last week. I’m writing a memoir-style book about our family’s journey with autism and depression, though I’ve not sat at that particular task in some weeks. I’m also writing some fiction, which I will never tell you about until my selected jury of husband and BFF have deemed it “not awful”.

It just doesn’t seem to be enough. Each day, I sit down and feel my way through musings here and if I don’t write here, then I take a stab at other projects. Honestly, of late, I like the other projects better. They are more fun and less weighty.

I am having fun in life. So strange.

Last week, I ordered new violin strings and yesterday they arrived. I restrung them one at a time and tuned up as much as I could, though everything is still a full step too low. I’ll come back to it today and it’s the number one thing I’m looking forward to today. I hope that I can get her fully in tune so that I can play without wincing. I find that I want to name my violin. How strange. I have a great affection for her.

I know that when the time is up and I need to set the keyboard aside or hang up my bow, that it will not feel like enough. Not in the sense of lacking worth, but in the sense of lacking time. I want more time with these expressions. Stopping to do the necessary things like eating and moving laundry, changing diapers – they eat at the precious moments spent in harmony.

I stopped writing before I typed harmony. The word was hard to find. How to describe sweet release? Its like the flow of a dribbling Italian fountain, the stucco a bold contrast to the glistening water. Peace. Harmony.

Perhaps writing is no longer like cathartic bleeding? Perhaps this season is a small expanse of time not devoted to the coping and discerning that comes with depression and anxiety.

I like this expanse. It feels free.

I think I’ll stay awhile and try my best to not watch for the dropping hammer. All I know is that today, it feels like all the pain has finally moved through me. Now, something more tender can flow.

Another lesson I’m learning – Everything passes eventually. There is beauty in letting the pain abate and the peace descend. Just as there will be beauty when the pain returns. I simply hope I won’t cringe so desperately when it arrives.

Candidly,

Ash

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