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Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Getting Past My Monkey

Years and years ago I was in Atlanta.  At a conference.  A professional trade show.  Networld+Interop.  After all, I was a networking (as in cables and switches and routers) professional.  I was there with my manager.  It was a blast.  I love Atlanta, and I love Networld+Interop.  I am no longer in the technological field of networking, though, so no more trade show for me.

Anyhow, it must have been 1995.  One of the trade booths had a fortune teller, who was dressed up like a belly dancer - this was back in the days of "booth bunnies."  She barely so much as touched my hand when she declared that I was a writer.  And she told me to get Natalie Goldberg's book.  I can't remember now if it was Writing Down the Bones, or Wild Mind.  I think it was Wild Mind.  Shortly upon returning home I purchased and read the book.  And I am reminded today that I have strayed long and far from her fabulous suggestions. 

I know in my heart, or rather, I feel it in my being that I am meant to write.  And that people will read and resonate with what I have to offer.  I have a tribe out there somewhere waiting for me.  And I need them and they need me.

But if I don't write more, we won't connect.  And that will be, on a cosmic level, a disappointment - or worse, for all of us involved.

So, as I was doing earlier, writing here almost daily - with nary a care for proofreading and what-not, I must again write.  I keep thinking that.  I occasionally write about that.  But today, a random Wednesday in October, must be the day I get past my monkey-mind, and write faster than my inner-editor can keep up with.

I love October.  I love the light.  And the feeling.  Its the hardest month for me, because in October, more than any other month of the year I long to throw away the bondage of my life and retreat to Vermont.  Just  pay cash for a little house, purchase a huge SUV and live happily ever after at the end of a country road lined with maple trees.  Just me and the family and the moose.  There are two moose per square mile in Vermont.  How can you not love the idea of a moose family living next door? 

I assure you, there are no moose in the general vicinity of my current, left leaning, lefty coastal domain. 



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