Food For Thought, Myself, Writing

Nanowrimo, Movember and Life

thSo I am now at 10,000 words, more than I have written in decades. I am also clean-shaven for Movember after a decade. It’s funny to me when I speak to other writers lately about the reasons why they cannot do Nanowrimo. From “I have to outline to no time”, I have heard it all. But recently a theme has come up. What if it’s no good?  What if it’s a waste of time. That’s the really big worry . It comes down what if I spend hours upon hours for 30 days and have nothing to show for it. Just 50,000 words of crap. My answer is simple. You won’t. If  Nothing else you will write something unique, different. Just let go. I am in the middle of a Novel, something I thought impossible a few years ago. I am 35 pages in, and I admit I am dying to edit, to delete, backspace some of the shit that spews out of me. I dawdle on Facebook and Twitter in the early morning, but I am writing. I am inching forward. 630am every morning so far, I am giving myself the permission to be a writer.  9am I call it quits, and then my day starts.

I hope to start Crossfit soon so I can begin prepping for Spartan, and I am nervous. Isn’t it a bit much to add that to my life. Also, trying to do Zen Habits where this months habit is to spend mindful time with loved ones. Give them at least 10 minutes without interruption.  And then there are some who have suffered horrific losses. One death. One fighting Cancer. It’s a strange and unpredictable world that teaches us that if not now, then when? Seize the day before it seizes you.

Cancer, My Past, Myself

The Stench of Self-Pity Part 1

Is there a better feeling than waking up to the quietness of a beautiful morning?  When the eyes are still closed, but inside you feel full of gratitude and love for all that is in your life?  Think I am full of shit? Few years ago, I would have agreed and perhaps even said that I was just trying to be a creative writer.  Yet, last year around this time is when I was still recovering from my brain surgery and prior to that, my wife’s illness and then before that a stroke  around the time a loss of a dear dear friend reverberated through  my soul. So I could say life was not fair. I could have whined, and been angry.  And honestly, I did. I cannot even read some of the stuff I wrote around that time because the stench of self-pity suffocates me.  I felt so sorry for myself that I engaged in soul deadening behaviors like avoidance, and pretending all was well. I stopped reading, writing or really doing anything that gave me true joy. I fought with people in my life with such a vengeance as if it was their fault my life was where it was.

I probably would have continued if some of the strangest things came together to salvage who I used to be. It began with a subscription to The New Yorker. I have been buying books all my life, and there are always piles of unread books surrounding my homes, but subscribing to the New Yorker was a new commitment for me. I had no idea that each week, a magazine that was extremely well written with VERY long articles would come to my doorstep.  Each and every single fucking week. So I began reading. Around the same time, a forwarded You Tube link of BK Shivani’s “Healer Within” caught my eye.  At first, I was uncomfortable with the Indian accents, but her words struck me into submission with their clarity and accuracy.  I also began doing Morning Pages from The Artist’s Way as well as doing Lumosity brain games while trying to learn Spanish (still struggling).

I didn’t realize at the time, but I had begun constructing a new me….

To Be Continued….

Myself

Below Average

Flag of the Sikh Empire, french flag overlaid ...
Flag of the Sikh Empire, french flag overlaid with waheguru written in punjabi across the front (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Cue Simran from the Tuhi Tuhi app.  I am absolutely in love with those words.  They bring me peace. Well at least on most days.   “You have scored below average on some key areas of your memory and reason” the doctor explained calmly over the phone to me yesterday.  I still hear echoes of it. Me?  Below average? It can’t be. Over and over. Below average in 3 out of 5 main areas of memory.  He went on for 15 minutes, but I couldn’t tell you what he said. I could blame that my short-term memory which has declined as per the doctor, but it’s more likely that I felt defeated in that moment. 3 months of meditation, BK Shivani, Babel.com, Lumosity.com, reading  and exercise seem to be all for nothing, I could explain that my reason has declined as per the doctor, or that I have a hard time visualizing places, things and events making it hard for  me to remember directions or recent events or people. I could just believe  I am below average.  Keeps echoing. Almost at pace of the simran in the background…  Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale out.

My stroke and brain surgery had taken a part of me. I am angry. I am frustrated. I feel alone.  I cannot be below average. That just is not in my vocabulary.  Fuck you stroke. Fuck you brain surgery. YOU. WILL. NOT. TAKE ME. I will not allow you take anything of mine anymore. You won the first and second round, that’s all. Last one is mine, or I am going down swinging. You will not take me dignity. My creativity. My reasoning. My love. My family. My friends. My reasoning. My words.

Tuhi Tuhi.  Waheguru.  I have faith. I am the creator of my thoughts, feelings and actions. They make my destiny. Anger is poison. Anger destroys. Relationships, will, love.  I know that. I will not bow down to negativity. I will not let anything or anyone take me from me.  I am not below average.  I am me.

The doctor said to get retested in January. I am going to, and I will keep at it until I get back who I was. Breath out the anger, hate, frustration and breath in the calm. Waheguru.

Myself, Writing

October 17, 2010

Woke up, put my one contact one, opened up my blog, and began writing. No hesitation, no distractions, just me and the words. Small hesitation on what topic to begin, my trip around US or the leaving topic mentioned by Goldberg (I had chosen leaving) and then decided to combine both in a just a second. House was quiet and so was my mind, just the fingers decided for me. Thought alternating paragraphs made sense and then it hit me that I went on my trip few weeks after breaking off my marriage and that was the main reason I went on this trip.

Next hard part was remembering all the places I went so hands started to hesitate and the words slowed but then I called my cousins and a brief conversation added more detail and I realized I need to sit with him and remap the journey, his memory was definitely better memory (considered he had a brain tumor that’s pretty telling).

Although I woke up quite late, i didn’t know this till I finished past the house, I was surprised but thee were a few things that helped. While writing, I started the kettle, made me some coffee, turned on some religious music (meditation type) and for a while I was lost in my thoughts on paper. It has been years since I reached that stage.

Its decided, whenever I wake and before bed I will write, regardless of the time. Ideal is 8am and 10 pm but even i miss those deadlines, I will still write.

Mainly edited what I wrote in the morning, around 10 pm, took an hour but also managed to add 200 more words so perhaps I shall be writing in the morning and editing at night.