On Writing

I woke up this morning with this sentence completely formed inside my head :

‘I don’t care if I am left behind’

It felt reassuring and then freeing ànd then exciting.

Whilst sleeping the moon had washed through me, leaving a decision made.

‘I don’t care if I am left behind’

When I walked the Camino de Santiago in 2007, it was full of stressed middle aged German men who would snore all night then get up at the crack of dawn and walk quickly, clicking their walking sticks, so that they could be sure to get a bed at the next hostal.

The pace and race appalled me and I ended up walking, slower and more slowly, walking all day and arriving after dark and sleeping anywhere I could find, under bridges, under desks, in toilets and at the homes of strangers, the ‘Camino angels’

Everyone overtook me and sometimes I would re connect with them as they got slowed down by blisters or injuries.

I couldn’t keep up,

I refused to,

It didn’t make sense to me.

I don’t know where I am going anymore, more than ever.

It is a bit scary to be totally outside the system and then to step further into following my intuition with no obvious way of supporting my self and my children but at the same time needing to engage with the system and ‘be autonomo’ self employed.

I have some commitments to fulfill and then I need to stop trying to keep up with anything.

I know it might sound rather cryptic and dramatic but I don’t really care.

I am writing this for you if you are reading it.

Soul to soul (what a great name for a band!)

It’s raining still here and I still love it even though I have a leak in my bedroom, I kind of love the leak because it feels like a secret.

‘I don’t care if I am left behind’

When I was a child I used to crouch down and watch the insects, my mother said, a simple ‘walk’ was not possible, I used to eat with my eyes closed so I could taste the food better.

This morning I read some posts on social media, punchy, articulate AI drivel.

It seemed so pointless to be reading it. All I care about in the writing process is the emotional personal impact on the body.

The magical way writing can rearrange our subatomic particles

I made a comment about ai on the punchy drivel post (the post was about the rain in Andalucia and how it’s becoming like Scotland) and a man instantly told me to relax.

How could he have known he was talking to the queen of relax

But I took his advice and relaxed a bit more.

‘I don’t care if I am left behind’

I want to watch the ants at work and think about how my tongue moves when I say three and I want to say to my children ‘there is no hurry’