I'm sure my life isn't any more chaotic than the average person, but sometimes I wonder. A couple of weeks ago, a few days down with the flu turned into an unexpected sabbatical from writing, working or doing anything productive.
Well, I did do a lot of reading, personal journaling and self-exploration. From the outside, all this inside/mental work didn't look like much, but I am realizing now (after my birthday) that it was quite necessary.
I finished up Starhawk's Truth or Dare, skipping over several parts about community & group working simply because it didn't really apply to me right now. It's one of those books I know I will read several times, it's practically a textbook. I also got my hands on an astrology text, Planets in Transit, and have had a good time looking up my transits for the day, studying the interactions of the planets.
My brain craves fiction now, and I've started Henry Miller's Under the Roofs of Paris. If you haven't read it, let me tell you, this is a bawdy book. I thought I had a dirty mind? No, but I'm looking forward to reading more fiction and studying the minds of dirty old men like Miller.
Perhaps...I hope, I pray, if I fill my mind with more stories, they will recombine in new ways and spill forth from head to hand to pen. I do know I am in a better state of mind & being.
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