(..or why I am not writing a blog every day, like I said I would..)
You know, this is probably.. this must be the most difficult part of my business..
Telling the truth at all times - with love.
Love - for all of us involved.. Me, included.
I guess the first thing that comes to my mind about this promise I made to myself (that I am not respecting) is that life is a cycle made of cycles.
You know what they say, that in 3 dimensions life looks like a spiral (my favourite) - but in real life it might feel like from time to time we arrive in the same (rotten) spot we were in a few months back or a few years back and think: Geez, I thought I already dealt with that..
And still, here it is. Again.
In "real life" I had a "real reason" to stop my project of 365 days of blogging only after... hahaha, a week.. :-)
Namely, my "real life reason" was that my beloved laptop broke.
It didn't break-break - but some of the letters went striking - Y, U, I, O.
(Like, the most important :-) the letters in Y O U and I :-) )
I did several practical things to find a solution - about which I will probably write at length another time, for the ones out there who might find themselves in the same kind of situation..
For now, let's just say I had a few kind of partial solutions for a while - but not a complete one until I bought a new laptop.. Which happened about one month after I stopped my baby 365 days project :-)
A month after! Gasp!
I promised to write 365 days, I wrote 7 in a row.. and now it was 30 days later..!
It gave me food for thought.
About how resistance can manifest itself in all these mysterious ways.
About how I did not even know when this whole month passed.
About how, after a month of not writing a thing, I had little to no inspiration.
About how before my computer broke I could not stop writing for more than 3 months..
..About how difficult it was to even consider writing this blog post.
Yet, here I am, writing it.
The fear that 'this' is it, while I am at the border.
While I am walking here in the mist, it smells like trees and in the same time like a vast yellow field, the crop I was looking for.
It smells like a forest garden.
And I am scared.
I can smell and feel my forest garden but I am still walking in the morning mist and I do not see anything.
What if I just pass it buy?
What if I will never ever find it..
What if it's Not.Meant.To.Be. ?..
There really isn't anything that makes me more forget more about the world than creating stuff.
Case in point, last Saturday Victor was away for the day with his best friend Cas and I was home alone.
And it was then that it happened:
I grew up in a communist country. Before I even could understand what envy is, I knew it was bad.
I heard all those stories from my grandparents, with the good girl and the bad girl, the good farmer and the good farmer - and the good ones were never envious.
Growing up I was still feeling envy sometimes. Maybe no envy in a strict sense of the word but longing for things that I did not have and I saw other children using. Like, all kinds of food, for example.
My parents were no members of the one and only political party, the communist one.
My family was not communist in a sea of communist families . For a long time I did not even know what to make of that - or why it was important - but at school I was painfully made aware of it almost everyday by the children and teachers.
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