About Me

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If who we are is what we do, then like most people, I am a mixed bag of personas. Writer, bookworm, friend, are what first come to mind. Equally apt would be potty mouth, dog walker, Guinness drinker, swimmer, storyteller, political animal, baker and proud Canadian. Mostly though, I consider myself simply insanely lucky to have a small posse of near and dear ones who put up with me and my curvy, creative, curly haired, opinionated self. I started this blog several years ago with the idea to challenge myself in a myriad of ways. Years in, despite the sporadic entries, I still like to muse about the absurdity of life, what inspires surprises and angers me, books and other entertainments, my menagerie, my travels and any other notion buzzing round in my head.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Bloom Recklessly

It’s been a while blog land. Howdy.

Life has been quite full since I last visited. Time is an odd construct. It feels both that ages have passed and also that these two years went by in a heartbeat.

I wish I could say I have now written the great Canadian novel, or lost those 50 pounds I hoped to.  Neither statement is true.  What is?  I’ve dabbled creatively.  Written some; edited lots too.  Took guitar lessons and started sketching. All enjoyable, if not massively productive.  But, is productive really the point?  I don’t think so, not even when it comes to my writing.  Writing is an expression, not so much a project to be completed.  That’s actually a new realization for me. And, one that makes writing more pleasurable in my world.  The 50 pounds are still around, give or take a few.  It’s a work in progress, like the rest of me.

There have been adventures since 2013:  travels, loves, and friends lost and found; books galore and gabby sessions with pals aplenty; some drama, more joy; daily dog walks and a recent addition to the menagerie in the form of a feisty black and white kitten named MacDougal.

I have spent some time, as I do each year, imagining what the coming 12 months might look like.  It would be hard to top 2014.  It was a good year.  I can only hope for more of the same.  Rather than resolve, I prefer to set a tone for the year with a single word.  For 2015, my word is bloom. 

This year I want to blossom vibrantly.  Fearlessly.  To let the roots of the past years bear fruit; to flower, to realize, to grow and ripen into being.

Creatively, this notion is particularly apt.  I’ve been cooking up several works over the years.  I have a number of stories in progress.  I hope to see them blossom in 2015.

I’m a bookworm at my core.  I gobble up material greedily. I’m eager for more.  It does not matter the form; whether they are books by old favourites or new to me writers, magazine articles, essays, op-ed pieces, blogs or newspapers.  All are devoured.  There is not enough time to read all I want to.  All these ideas take root in my mind.  They inform me on many levels.  They affect my thoughts and therefore my art.  They colour my actions and reactions.  They point me down certain paths and away from others.  

I wouldn't characterize myself as especially careful.  But I could be more fearless; second guess a bit less. Years ago I chose courage as my word for the year.  I can channel that.  I can dig deeper within me for reserves of experience and expression and this year, let go with wild abandon.  I will bloom.  The yield?  Who knows.  Certainly more travel, love in any of the various forms it might take, peace, pleasure, art, robustness and ideally in 2015, a joy filled year.    

"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, 
there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night."
Rainer Maria Rilke

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