I am working on a book. It is the book of my right-now heart, and it’s where most of my writing energy is going these days — including my blogging energy, which means I’ll be blogging less frequently again for awhile. I will sometimes share here what I’m working on for the book, and will welcome your thoughts and feedback.
The life I want to live is the life that has writing and books and love and the natural world at the center of it: this means that when I’m done writing, I don’t want to spend more time at the computer; I want to go outside, for a walk with the dog, or time in the garden, or to run and dance by the bay. That’s the life I have created, and am living into. That’s my fairy door.
Last week a new friend died. He was with me on Tuesday afternoon for a surprise short walk. About an hour later he had a brain aneurysm and went into a coma. Five days later he died. Last week was a week of presence with his community of good and close friends. It was a week of presence with my beloved: this man was one of her two closest and oldest friends, her son’s godfather, one of her roots in this life. It was a week of thinking about what matters. This is the terrible root of the cliche of my this week: his death has me thinking about how we accomplish what is most important before we die.