“…Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen. Repent just means to change direction—and NOT to be said by someone who is waggling their forefinger at you. Repentance is a blessing. Pick a new direction, one you wouldn’t mind ending up at, and aim for that. Shoot the moon.” – Anne Lamott
I saw this quote today, and so it has inspired me to write something (anything) in honor of the arrival of 2019 and my mad resolution (declaration) to write more. People inquire, “Oh, do you write?” Sure. I do. Though, for the past eighteen years, it has been mostly in my mind as I plunge through each day. A note here: the sliding-door-passing feelings of my old life overlapping my new one. A thought over there: the pulsing state of absolute transcendence that hot yoga wraps me in. This kind of writing, though, the typing kind, is here and there and scattered in-between pockets of times when I think I have THE time, which is abruptly dissected with a (at any random time, in any random order): “MOOOOMMMMMM!!! Can you wipe my butt?….mama, can you get me juice?…MOM, can you buy me this shirt?”
So, here I go. I am putting myself out there in hopes of being big, juicy, and radical. I’m going to write it all out. Maybe someone will read it.
OneRadMama 