A Bit of Sunlight – The Writers Craft

Craig is snoring and I had caffeinated tea with a neighbour tonight. I can’t sleep so I face the evening chill, wrapped in my fluffy housecoat, to walk to the basement where my office resides. I will write.

I write about our marriage. I don’t get back to bed until 1 am. Then MySelf wakes me up at 5:30. I fought with Myself until 6:10 and now I am writing again. I would have been disappointed if I never wrote today. I would have felt I was behind in making my dreams come true, writing my childhood memoir.

I want to be able to have Craig not stressed and me doing what I love and enjoy. Writing has been making me happy for the last couple of weeks. I don’t want it to stop. Perhaps it is just some kind of therapy for me and it won’t amount to anything more than that. One way or another I feel it will fix me. 

The only issue is that I am not really writing what I want to write about, or what I thought I would write about. Most of these last few weeks writing have felt more like journaling about my burnout than about my childhood. Too be honest, I am feeling frustrated with the writing I have been doing. It doesn’t have all the wonderful colours and charm that my story of Rose Valley should have.

I get up every morning and sit here, in my office between 5am and 7am and all I seem to be doing is journalling. I am just venting. Writing about all that upsets me and depresses me during the day. I had hoped this would turn into a memoir about my childhood with my sisters. I do not see it. I will finish my 30 day contract and see what I have got. See if there is a story in here somewhere.


A Bit of Sunlight – The Armour

In elementary school I was picked on occasionally.  Hence, I wasn’t too popular.  I can not say that their name calling or mean actions didn’t affect me. They did, but the effects didn’t last. I knew there was something greater even though I wasn’t consciously aware of it.

When my parents separated after my Grade Six year I learned that I was right. My sisters and I moved with my mom to Saskatoon. I was one of the more popular people in my new school in the city.  Moving to the city was a new beginning so I made great attempts to hide our level of poverty. 

I returned to Rose Valley for my Grade Nine year. Coming from the city where I had friends I knew that the opinion of my country class mates didn’t mean much.  There is a big world out there – a place where I can be liked.  I felt sure of myself. 

All of my friends were picked on at some level. Maybe everyone is in public school. I found myself standing up for others and really enjoying it. I didn’t care what these people thought of me and it made me feel like my veins pumped iron. I was a force.

When I graduated I received The Home and School Congeniality Award. I was quiet like a mouse but if you upset me I stood up. My year book said “Even bombs are quiet before they are ignited.”

I first became consciously aware of this force, this something more, in me when I was in high school. I was part of Venturers, a division of Scouts. We were leaving the home of a fellow Venturer, Marc, one night and delighted in the snow fall as we piled into my dad’s green station wagon. I was young in my driving experience and as we turned onto the main grid in front of  Marc’s house that delightful snow fall seemed more blizzard-like with headlights on. If my Dad were here I would have gladly let him drive. One boy, Matthew, sat in the back seat screaming, “We are going to die! We are going to die!” I recall realizing that I knew we were going to be fine. I just knew. I didn’t have a doubt about it.

I specifically knew that I would be fine because there was something for me to do and I hadn’t done it yet. This made me aware that while I could not die that doesn’t mean I could not be maimed or injured in some way. My body was not invincible, nor were the other people in the vehicle, it was simply my life that was – for now.

While I felt strong and with purpose I also felt afraid. I felt afraid to look into this purpose because I wasn’t sure what would happen after I did it. I became afraid. Now, reflecting on this I believe this seed, as my yoga sutras refer to it, this beginning of this idea that I would die when I lived my life purpose came from a film.

I can not remember much about the film. Not an actor nor a name. So I apologize for not being able to reference it. In the film there was a lot of fortune telling. A lady was told that she would be rich or famous. Well, what happened is that these things didn’t happen to her until she died.  I can not recall if she died by accident or if she was murdered but this movie left a message in me that would shape much of my life for the years to come.  It got me thinking that you don’t know how the cards are laid out for you. I may be destined for something but perhaps it is scary to chase that dream. Who knows where it will lead.  I could die chasing it.

Now I wonder why I decide to view the movie this way when it was probably interpreted many different ways from many other people?  Why do we see things in our own way and not the same?

I don’t have those answers yet but I so feel through my entire body that I have some unique gift to offer the world. From the moment I felt purposeful that day on the road in front of my childhood home, I developed a coat of armour around me.

Many things didn’t bother me. I trusted. I believed. I felt I had time. I felt I could play for now, like it wasn’t my time to be purposeful yet. Well, I think now it is my time. Now I have to be. Perhaps I never got on the wrong path at all and this was meant to be my journey. I was intended to run this course so I could learn things and help others with my teachings. I believe anything is possible.