Here I am, in my birthday month, after two hellish days of Passport— no I shouldn’t say that. I welcomed the challenge, the stress and all the work associated with a Passport weekend at Dutcher Crossing. And for the most of most parts, all parts were admirably functioned and tuned. There were no major kerfuffles, and no sinkings of any kind. I wanted to work hard, I wanted to be tested, I wanted to be tired and hungry and given task after task. That’s how I am. Now, sitting with some peace and coffee and words prior to my 6th straight day at the winery, I’m into my role, back to “normal”, not that the weekend was abnormal. It was just a test. And I more than passed. Upping volume on jazz in ears as I just heard one of the baristas call out a “mobile order”, then a bar order, then another mobile order I couldn’t understand. Wonder if I could do what they do, these baristas. If I battled through the weekend, then yes. I can do anything.
Started page for day in Composition book, but I just wrote the date. Wanted to write a poem, short, maybe haiku, but I balked. Was up with Jackie this morning before 6. But strangely, I’m not tired. Went to bed just after 22:30, so I had more than enough sleep even though I was pulled from rest around 3-something this morning from heat. That year’s time lands where it’s warm at night, I should be sitting on the porch with a glass Chardonnay, or ice-water, decaf or something to take in all the atmosphere, season.
My attention wanders, no surprise. Mom said “Focus one on piece.” I am. This sitting. It’s a piece giving the writer a riled primal peace. So I keep going in my moment, further into it, just writing to write… semester nearing end, have to start prepping for Summer, and the 6/1 Vineyards class… teaching is my topic, my form, my elevated elevator, all of it. Then my attention hones on the day’s quote, by Hawthorne, about easy reading being hard writing. Love it, him, the reality and wave of opposites theory becoming more than theory. Should have that on day’s page.. log all opposites observed. Professional, unprofessional… quick, slowed… focused, wandering. There are troves in visible opposites, I’m finding. And they teach me to pay more attention, keep my study in its motion, log everything… scribble scribble scribble.
I will work harder than I did over the weekend, everyday. And for my writing, teaching, teaching or sharing ideas through writing. Investing in my Now, in my teaching, writing, ideas…. Investing in ME. Nothing wrong with that, at all. Don’t let anyone tell you there is, ever. That’s falderal, believe me. You know you better than anyone intersects with your story. You’re the author of your narrative, and that’s irreversible. So… here we are, ready to write, ready for this newest month, and continue with stern swagger, resoluteness, new sight.