smoke in the city

 “let the beauty we love be what we do.“

Rumi

In my last expression I spoke about wondering if writing inspirational books was the path for me and quite honestly I am still unsure. My initial thought is that I don't want to come across as if I am preaching at my audience, especially since I don't like that feeling of having a writer "preach" to me when I'm reading their work. The more thought I give it, the more I think that is not the path I'd like to journey upon. I acknowledge that when I post my expressions I like to have a positive outlook or outcome regarding the thoughts I've shared or at least hopefulness, maybe even a bit of uplifting however I don't see that as inspirational. Perhaps I need to rethink what inspirational is and how it may fit my style of writing. 

Summer is officially here and my class is going well; much easier than I anticipated however, there's about 3 weeks remaining so time will tell if it remains as such. American "Independence Day" has come and gone leaving clouds of smoke in the city; although I don't technically celebrate the day, I put my own smoke in the air in the form of Cherry Punch. The heat was overwhelming, causing my plans to be interrupted. Nevertheless, it was a good day filled with cannabis, good food and good company. 

When thinking of my writing and the amount of writing I've been doing for college, I am realizing how much I love writing. Especially when I am challenged to write about meaningful topics that I don't necessarily discuss in my daily life. Such as the Supreme Court overturning Affirmative Action and cancelling student loan debt, two rulings that may affect me at some point of my college career. It's interesting that those rulings occurred days before celebrating "freedom" in this country. Not necessarily shocking, but noteworthy as those who need these programs the most will be the ones to suffer because of them. Taking away the freedom to choose a college or university that may not have accepted us solely because of our race, gender, socioeconomic status, etc., while "legacy admissions" is a thing is mind-blowing. 

I am happy to have found something I love which could someday generate income, which is one step closer to financial freedom and success. I only wish I had discovered this desire to write when I was much younger, however, life happens as it should. At least that's a philosophy I abide by; to an extent. Even with that belief I find myself at times questioning the course of my journey and wondering "what is going on?" not much of the "why is this happening?" anymore. I trust God and the universe to guide and protect me yet there are times I am unsure of the guidance I am receiving or interpreting. Like now, with the state of my affairs, I am curious as to where I am on my path and the destination of my journey. Although (at times) I am "enjoying the ride" I am often confused about the "balance" of things going well opposed to things that are not going as I would have intended. 

I believe it's safe to say that many of us have heard the saying "find what you love to do and you'll never work a day in your life", I've worked many days, since I was a teenager (14 years old to be specific) resulting in an anxiety attack forcing me to retire well before retirement age. I used to question "why did this happen to me?" now I embrace the time I have to write, return to college and fill my days as I choose. Balancing mental health issues is a "job" within itself, managing my hormones, mood and overall well-being all while "making it look easy" is tougher than I ever imagined. Needless to say, it is my life therefore I must continue on the journey I find myself on whether it's tough or less difficult. With each course I take I am recognizing the love I have for writing is growing stronger with each assignment, finding myself anxious for the next module to open and pride in myself when I accomplish the task and receive the grades I am satisfied with.

The thought came to mind, it's crazy to me that we celebrate freedom yet the courts are doing everything they can to strip us of those very freedom's many fought and died for.  I digress. 

Last week I was encouraged to "write a book, please" and rather than the usual feelings of overwhelming anxiety to my surprise I felt a bit inspired. I thought of a semi-autobiographical book beginning with the first expression I made "public", titled "How Did I Get Here?". The thought that overwhelms me is, that expression speaks about a place in my life where I made changes to my lifestyle and found happiness; which isn't what overwhelms me, what does is the fact that the "story" isn't over. I haven't reached a level of success to share, so once I tell how I got here (as of 2012) what do I fill the remaining chapters with? The struggles of the past 10+ years with anxiety disorder, depression and bipolar disorder? Although I have not experienced the trauma of hospitalization in quite a few years, navigating through daily life brings upon it's on struggles as those things (anxiety disorder, depression and bipolar disorder) aren't circumstances a person "overcomes", we manage and maintain balance. 

So, what do I write about? Especially since every person dealing with these issues have unique experiences and although some may relate, perhaps many will not. Which scares me because I'd like to do well as an author; how can that happen with low book sales? Then I wonder, am I "putting the cart before the horse"? Last month there was a surge in readership on this blog as well as the original; which surprised me, I recall saying in an expression (I don't recall which) that I write and share without concerning myself of "how many" readers there are, I share because my words may help someone along their journey, even if that someone is me. I think I should keep that philosophy in mind when thinking about book sales and such. The fulfillment of accomplishing that goal may be satisfaction enough or I may be surprised as I was with last months "stats". 

As night becomes dawn, I am still awake; fireworks are still filling the sky with smoke and I am almost out of words to share. I have an early morning planned yet sleep alludes me, I pray I'll be able to get enough rest to feel able to make my first unscheduled "appointment" which is taking Rocko to the groomer. He had a hell of a day with the noise of the fireworks in addition to eating his little heart out and roaming the backyard. His coat shows he had a lot going on; so I figure I'd give him a "Rocko Appreciation" Day. Since it's rather impromptu I am hoping the groomer will accept us as "walk-ins" and I won't make the hour long drive in vain... I opted out of that plan as he has an appointment scheduled for Saturday and I wouldn't be wasting time, energy and gas driving and possibly not being seen. 

It feels like Monday yet the week is half-way over; I have to replan my day, seeing how my assignments for completed for this week maybe I'll go to the beach. Hmm I believe I already have a beach day planned for the week along with a trip to the farmer's market, I've gone to the beach multiples days in the week before so that isn't unheard of. Often thinking of what else there is to do in the city; however, I have yet to find anything of interest so I haven't done much this Summer. As smoke fills the air I am thinking about next week, which is the day my Dad passed; July 12, 2018... but I'll save that for another expression. I don't know what I plan to do to celebrate his memory, focusing on the time spent and lessons learned from him rather than mourning or grieving. 

I miss my Dad. I am often reminded of some of the last words he spoke to me, letting me know how proud he was of me and I know how encouraging he would be about my writing and book ideas. Although Mother's and Father's Day have long gone, if your parents are still here and you have a relationship with them I encourage you to love on them especially when it's unexpected because you never know when that time will come. I wish I had more time with my Dad, but I have memories that make me smile and photos to reminisce. This expression is a bit all over the place and I think I've ventured off topic, but that's what happens when you allow the fingers to speak what your heart says. Maybe that's why the idea of writing a book right now keeps coming up? Perhaps there's a "story" in my heart that wants to be heard?

Until next time...