February 6, 2010 : Can't miss a day!

Bonsoir!

Okay, I hope this isn't going to become a compulsive-obsessive thing-y, but I am dead beat tired after 12 hours of writing and conferencing, and all I can think of is "I have to get my blog done!"

It's kind of neat, because since I stopped being a banker (I have to add a smiley face - every time I say those words or think that thought, my face smiles BIG!) :-), I have been dabbling at so many things I started to worry I had A.D.D. or something, but with this blog I am finding myself completely focused.

Granted, it would be nice to be so dedicated to something that I could earn a living at, but baby steps, Kath, baby steps!

So I am trying to become a writer. No, wait, that's wrong. I AM a writer. I have been writing all my life. I have volumes to prove it, notebook after notebook written since I was in grammar school, chronicling highs and lows since I was able to pick up a pen. It is fun to look back sometimes, in fact. For example, I really like one of my first poems, a haiku, really, when I was nine or ten:

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Just Wondering
K. Hudson

I sometimes think that others don't.
But if they don't, what do they do?
I don't know; do you?

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So, you can see, it is very clear I am already a writer. So the question is: what KIND of a writer do I want to be?

"A published and paid writer!", comes the howling response from the depths of my being.

"But I got paid last year for those three short film screenplays", I respond, daring to cross the insistent voice.

"A published and WELL-paid writer!" corrects the being.

But I am not buying it. Somehow I know it is something other than that. Never mind the being; the Being in me knows that there is something else I want to do with my writing.

To that end, I will share my most recent poem. I hope you like it.

(Thanks to Barb, Sophie and Stephen for your critiques!)

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Stillness
K. Hudson

Let me let the stillness be
Let me let the me be Me.
In face of You sometimes I flee,
Rushing, doing, busily.

Let me let the stillness be.
Let me slow, and breathe and see.
Let my hand reach and touch Me.
Let my heart rise and break free.

Just who is it that must allow?
Who bars the way, the path, the how?
Who uses fear to bend and bow?
Is it me who blocks the Now?

Let me let the stillness be.
I choose then now to trust to see.
accept the fear, embrace that me,
I choose to let You work in Me.

And when I let You work in me,
I finally let the stillness be.
And in that Being I can see
in the stillness You are Me.

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I get it now, I don't write for money. I write for love.

Peace from Geneva.