A Writer’s Confession

My New Year’s intention is to make my creative life more of a priority. This means I have been focusing on my craft and more importantly my genre, memoir. I normally listen to books when I am working out and driving to work. I have a 20 – 25 minute commute to the hotel life, why not fill that time with listening to fiction, podcasts, and now, interviews with memoir writers. I am a fan of Mary Karr’s, author of three acclaimed memoirs and poetry books. I have read, The Art of Memoir, two or three times and have listened to it twice and I am about to listen to it again to get my head back into the physical writing of my second memoir.

On Wednesday, I was watching an interview with Mary and she shared a Sufi poem translated by Robert Bly. I listened to it twice and now have it printed and posted on my wall in my writing room. There is something about the words that trigger memories that I wanted to dig at but haven’t been able to. I was avoiding the flashbacks of the embarrassment of my reactions to the situations I found myself in when I was younger. The choices I made to stay with a man who was a cheater and liar use to haunt me. But as a believer in the mantra, everything happens for a reason, the choices I made were made for a reason. Creativity chose me to work through. I am the vessel to write the ideas creativity whispers to me. For the moment I know I am to write about my hotel life experiences, and the life lessons I learned while working for a luxury hotel in the heart of the Canadian Rockies. The choice to stay with a man who I adored but we were not very nice to one another for the first year and half of our relationship, was a choice that maybe many of us have lived through and I am here to share my experiences to say you are not alone. I am facing this notion each time I write, each time I pick and scratch at what the truth was in the moment it was happening.

The Radiance

I talk to my inner lover, and I say, why such
rush?
We sense that there is some sort of spirit that loves
birds and animals and the ants–
perhaps the same one who gave a radiance to you in
your mother’s womb.
Is it logical you would be walking around entirely
orphaned now?
The truth is you turned away yourself,
and decided to go into the dark alone.
Now you are tangled up in others, and have forgotten
what you once knew,
and that’s why everything you do has some weird
failure in it.

The first line captures me, why such rush? I am trying to catching up on the memories that flood my mind of my time working in the Canadian Rockies. I was in my early twenties and thought, I just need to get through this to get back home, back to university so I can get back to the Lake to work. What was the rush? I learned how to stop and take in the beauty of the moment and now there is no rush, however, time seems to be slipping by quickly and I am right here, exactly where I need to be. On the page, writing. The remainder of the poem strikes a cord that makes me want to cry because the words are raw and true.

Is it logical you would be walking around entirely
orphaned now?
The truth is you turned away yourself,
and decided to go into the dark alone.
Now you are tangled up in others, and have forgotten
what you once knew,
and that’s why everything you do has some weird
failure in it.

During that time I was with the wrong man and was not my true self. I was walking around feeling very alone because of my choices. I was embarrassed and thought others were judging me. How could I face them knowing they thought I was so innocent, yet I wasn’t so naive. I chose to avoid the truth, turn a blind eye. I got caught up with the notion of being in love, trying to control someone who couldn’t be held onto. I forgot who I was and I ignored the intuition I once was in tune with. I was floating along like a ghost. I was lost for the period of time I was tangled in love with that boy I thought would love me forever. It turned out he loved himself more and chose his own path. I once too broke up with someone and said to them, ‘I love myself too much to stay with someone who doesn’t know what they want.’ How did I forget that? How did I lose myself to one person who consumed my heart, soul, and true self?

All these memories and feelings came from first hearing this poem and then reading it over and over. It is as if my past experiences were living in between each word, each sentence of this beautifully dark poem. I am so grateful for the intentions I have set for myself and to come across a poem that I may never have come across if I didn’t make my creative life a priority.

Everything happens for a reason.

Thank you for being here with me today. I wish you all a beautiful day.

Until Next Time, Keep on Typing…

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