Ready or Not

Its been too long since I last wrote. No reason except its been too long. Got in the habit of not. A precarious road we all fall victim. Yet, like all good comeback stories, it begins with a single step. So I write tonight. On this warm night. Fan is blaring trying to keep the room cool and I sit here on the exercise ball tapping on the keys. For a bit I was taking pictures galore. IG, 365, FLickr. Created albums on FB. Now I write.

How did I get here? At first I took pictures to give story quality, to give it depth. To fill the need of the visual. To put picture to my filters of life. Did so I can economize my words and have people understand the thought process.

Now my laptop’s memory is full and I just want to write.

Ms. Blume I hope life is treating you well. I miss the writing class at the Rock. Having assignments to fulfill. Letting the words come and to share. Now as I have always known, its my agenda. Its my pace. Its my stories that need writing. Having some organization and deadline was always nice, but the stuff that needs to come out. . .Well, it’s a force onto itself.

My story. . .Been visiting the new InShape down the street. I reminded of a chapter of my life. Open to close at the desk. Trying to build memberships. Negotiating with customers. Watching the politics of dirty sales, keeping the business a flow. Met up Ms. Franco. My first Hip Hop instructor. She came up to me after Athena’s class. Said, “I know you.” Its funny the day before I was talking with T. She’s hands down the best instructor I have ever had the pleasure. Energetic, well cued, improvisational. It was like walking into yesterday.

How life has journeyed. I wonder at times if in a past life, am I living with what was comfortable? Is the issues and propensities just layovers from an earlier one. For instance, why is the story I am working on have the meanings and themes that it does. It draws me.

“Lights are happy” those were my first words when. . .Then seeing the pictures from Darrell’ funeral. The White light in Angeles Forest. The picture of Glow at Bright Angel Point. Cloud formation.

Don’t want to dismiss this or belittle the significance. Don’t want to ignore that it could be mental. However, the clues—the signs—says something. How can I dismiss when Precie took her first flight? How can I ignore the astronomical coincidence of Em and Fury’s relationship with the Lab? How can one dismiss these incidents? It would be unlikely and unremarkable to leave these things to chance. It would be disrespectful to explain it away to Luck.

Dali Lama is said to be a soul from its previous Dali Lama. These stories of past lives and OBE just seems to common to just be coincidence.

So these issues and dramas we face, is it the recycle until we get it right? Is each soul new or retread from past? These lives that we live, are these the extension of ones before hand. Ghosts, spirits, souls—to think we are just the chemical reactions of stardust. The natural selection. The happy accident. Is it the mechanism of our reality? Luck is real. Karma and Samsara is proven to me.

So I write for clarity. For ideas to take life. I write for understanding. I write because one becomes pregnant with ideas and its coming ready or not.