write through the ugly

writing is essential to my well being, it's therapeutic and powerful to me. every night, i write. something. a rhyme. a memory. a thought. a wonder.something silly that will make me giggle. husby will walk in the living-room and there i am: curled up in my favorite cheetah blanket with my "all my friends are nuts" notebook. except now, i have a little nugget who chases my pen as i write, mila. 

just recently, husby ordered me a copy of "writing down the bones" by natalie goldberg. i had been wanting this little book for a little bit but couldn't seem to find it in any bookstore, i guess because it is so old. but ebay has everything, right?

it is a great book, i've really enjoyed reading it. writing isn't always easy. it doesn't always come to you like a whimsical song bursting out of your inner being. sometimes you have to really pull it out of your brain by the chain, but even sometimes that doesn't work and it's simply called "writer's block". it's the same feeling as staring at a blank white wall.. nothing. it almost put's you in a zombie-like trance. 

in her book, she inspires you to forget all of the rules you learned in school about writing. "throw it all out of the window, because there is no teacher grading you anymore!" lose all education, only while your writing of course, and just let go. she says, "if you misspell a word, it doesn't matter. let your pen flow just as your mind does."and i have learned i don't have to write "perfect", because i'm free to write the worst junk in the world.

last night, one chapter really hit me like a ton of bricks. when i write, i try so hard to write what the world would have me write, what is acceptable in the world's eyes. see, the world would have me write, "the world is never ugly.. blah blah blah blah" but the truth is, the world can be ugly sometimes, in truth very regular, and it's okay to write when i'm sad or even when i'm angry. my paper is my canvas and my pen is my paint brush. there i said it!

last night, i put my emotions to practice in my writing i suppose. losing a person who meant so much to you is hard, but having to look back and still find that they aren't here is the hardest. i miss my mow-mow very much, and sometimes when someone brings her name up, i just cannot fight back that complex action that takes place behind my eyes that creates a tear. i don't hurt so much for her, because i know she's in a beautiful place, i hurt for me.. i miss her. so i wrote, for her. it's hard, but i've learned you have to write through the ugly, just as you have to live through it. 

" i thought of you today

someone brought up your name

i smiled not hearing a word they said

biting the tears as i hung my head

you would think by now it wouldn't be so hard

to think of you being so far

hearing them say " i knew"

when i wanted so badly for them to still "know"

oh, i know why you had to go

but there's not a needle left here to sew

this broken part of me they call a heart

sometimes, i just can't seem to find the switch to make it start

so i'll pack up my jar of frowns

and the memories i've again found

i'll think of you tomorrow

and smile again through the sorrow"

i love reading books that inspire me, in truth that is really all i write, word's that will inspire myself but word's that i pray inspire someone else as well. that's what writing is all about. goldberg says in her book, "inspiration = breathing in God" and i truly believe it! sometimes when i write, i become larger than myself and i look at myself and go "where did that come from!?!!" 

i know.