Sarah P Miller, Dream Work, Let us make like jewel squid at 5,000 feet
Don't throw any of yourself away. Don't worry about a grand scheme or unified vision for your work. Don't worry about unity – what unifies your work is the fact that you made it. One day, you'll look back and it will all make sense.
I've been thinking of being lost. In the good way. In the absorbed way. Of how I long all day to sit down to write. To clear branches from the windrow. How I get lost in the hours of it. The satisfaction of focus. Absorption. I've been thinking of loss. And how this dog-loss, how any loss, brings back round all the loss. All the loss of all the time. And how to harness all of that loss-bringing for good. Because, it's been a year, and there is still a whole lot that has not left me yet, despite wanting it to go, that clings to the wrinkles in my brain and the wrinkles in my skin despite the amount of scrubbing or wishing or opening palms to let go. I am hoping this loss will simmer on the stove of thought, bringing up all the scum and bubbles and film to the top of the pot, so I can skim it off and fling it in the sink, to rinse down the drain. Only the clear, nourishing, warm, deep taste of the good stock remaining.
Most of the things I've been struggling with lately are rooted in feeling vulnerable. I'm not talking about choosing to be vulnerable, the Brene Brown version of vulnerable, which is powerful, no argument, but which is about being seen, being truthful, being imperfect, being known. I mean the state of not feeling secure, not feeling protected from damage or harm.