My back porch is half shaded around the one 0'clock hour and I found myself today with a good book and a cigarette enjoying the shade. My dog, on the other hand, chose the route of full sun. She lay on her side, black as a solar panel, soaking in the afternoon warmth. Bees made themselves busy around me, gathering nectar from a flowering vine in my yard that is supposedly related to bougainvillea. The orange funneled blossoms cascading down the vine as it grows up and falls back towards ground under the force of gravity.
The stories I was reading were touching me in all the right places, places where I believe in the possibility for the human soul, where I believe in the interconnectedness of all things and that there is no such thing as coincidence. It touched me in the place where I can believe.
I believe that life is hard. That it is meant to be. I believe that challenge is the only thing that provides growth and I believe that it is easy to compromise the soul when faced with these challenges.
I took a step back recently, a step back to a place before I reclaimed writing as my own, a place where gripy comments and inaction where the strategies I employed. Today though, today was a different day. So, I am glad that today was a study day. I've written 10 pages of new fiction, an entire wedding ceremony over which I will preside and a new section for my essay. I have been writing for four hours now and I'm just now beginning to feel the pinch in my back, the call of home, and the hope that my daughter will still be awake when I get there.
I'm hoping that I can carry over the feeling into tomorrow and next week and next month but I know now that it will return if I lose sight of it. I must simply remain engaged with the world, even when it seems impossible to do so.
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