Thinking about what you are going to write is not the same as sitting down and writing it

So this morning there is a vanilla candle burning – not to mark sacred writing time but because my home office partner Ollie is a stinky mutt (with dog farts).

What do I write?  Why do I write?

Good questions.  Not sure I have the answers. Sorry.

My teacher and coach Jeffrey Davis of Tracking Wonder says “draft to discover, Colleen”.

Not even sure I would categorize this as drafting, but rather showing up, being accountable.  Experimenting.  Maybe even playing . . .

On Saturday afternoon, before I talked for hours with my “asshole ex-husband” (his words, not mine) and hand-wrote 3 Julia Cameron “morning pages” at 1:30 in the afternoon,  I spent way too-much money buying presents for myself, something I never do, except in these bright, periodic bursts of shopping I do maybe twice a year (okay maybe 6 times a year).  Most times, I take everything back, but not this time.

Here’s what I bought:

4 kelly rae roberts’ pieces:  2 small square inspirational plaques with the phrases “Remember who you wanted to be” (hanging here in my office) and “Your Story Matters. Tell It” (hanging by the stove in the kitchen); an outdoor thermometer (“Embrace Change”) which replaced the ancient Sunbeam one outside the kitchen window. and a whimsical jewelry box (“Embellishments”) which is on my bureau. The bureau used to be my Great Uncle John’s (‘The Nutneg Kid’, my grandmother used to lovingly call him behind his back, because he mispronounced words like nutmeg).  The bureau used to be painted that deep oily black, Depression-era lacquer. Now it is some weird greenish/blue shade of grey – thank you Annie Sloan Chalk Paint (another mad, compulsive shopping day for me, buying her $30 paint brushes! Yeesh.)
1 liquid/foamy Beach soap for the guest bathroom (which is a sea theme)
1 book of fancy wooden matches with a pretty painted box that says “Island”
The Red Tent by Anita Diamant  (I am reading her book The Boston Girl now)
oh, and KJ Warming Lubricant (because well, getting old, is ever-so interesting.)

During this shopping explosion, I ran into my mom .  She spotted me from behind and didn’t want to hug me without checking that it was really me first.  It was nice to see her, though somewhat embarrassing “I’m buying Mother’s Day presents for myself” I shared sheepishly (Gosh our Mom’s love us no matter what, don’t they? even in our worst moments?)  And she said “That’s great! Don’t put any of it away, Colleen”  I love my mom. She and my dad (and their 2 cats Allie & Bear) are driving East today to their home in Cape Cod.  I am happy for them, and wish I could somehow travel with them, just to stand by the beach there, on Surf Drive in Falmouth, and fill my heart with that salty, wild, beautiful and ever-changing space.  I miss the Atlantic ocean so much.

So, was this what I intended to write today?  That I thought about writing (when I was sitting downstairs 30 minutes ago)?  Not in the slightest.  Not even close.

So what are you thinking about doing today, but not actually doing?

Maybe risk doing it.  You may surprise yourself.

The hopping explosion
My shopping explosion on Saturday complements of Oswalds Pharmacy in Naperville.

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