Thursday, June 14, 2012
Now THAT'S some frog!
Frogs are my sign of change. I see them more as my life is about to change. Or maybe I just notice them more, I don't know. Either way, I call them my "frogs of change."
While I was in NYC, I turned a corner in the Museum of Natural History to find this guy. Half frog, half alligator--I spied him..or he spied me. And at the size of him, I think there is some change a-comin'. Or he's just gonna swallow me whole.
I'm in a funk this summer--actually it's been for awhile. I'm not finding stories in my everyday life. There is no hilarity in the backyard or in what my family is saying. Oh, we are still laughing, but it's sort of like there is a filter over it--a haze of sorts. There are just no stories--and that frustrates me.
When I first began to blog, I was very careful about what I wrote about. I would type my stories on Word and then cut and paste onto Blogger. Words were chosen carefully. Subjects were thought out and topics were delicately broached. I wasn't as free back then and I felt that sharing through my blog was a "rickety limb of doom"--or so I thought. I was afraid to post this or that for fear of judgement--even though I had little to no readership.
After awhile, and much encouragement from an author acquaintance, I learned to let go and put my "lips to the world and live," as poet Mary Oliver would say. And I learned to be free in my thoughts and words in print.
Somehow, and I don't know why, I'm back to the filter. And it's a heavy filter. I don't write about family or friends, work, or my every day life. I am, for some odd reason, worried about who will read what I write and fear repercussions.
Why do I care? I don't know. Why do I suddenly feel like an opaque curtain has suddenly been dropped on the theater of my life--who knows? It's just there and I'm barely functioning. Call it Writer's block or whatever, I just need to get back to me. Why this sudden worry of who is going to think what is very new to me--I don't typically care. So why now? Hmmmmmm.
I took a good long look at this frog/alligator and asked myself silently what was the message. I mean, it was a frog the size of me for goodness sakes--there must be a major shake-up pending, right? So, I'm been on the search of what I need to change.Those frogs send a very powerful message when they appear and this one is particularly big--which is sort of scary. I mean, he looks like he's got teeth and claws and such. Yikes.
I'm gonna go back and start at the beginning. I turn to Katz and Mary Oliver, again, to inspire me to tell my stories.
Mornings at Blackwater Creek
"For years, every morning, I drank
from the Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.
And always, it assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.
What I want to say is
that the past is the past, and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,darling citizen.
So come to the pond,
or the rive of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
and put your lips to the world.