well. in an odd twist of ? it turns out the schedule i had was incorrect and i’ve missed Rinpoche. the teaching i thought was tonight was actually last night, the teaching today i missed by doing laundry, and the ones tomorrow and tuesday i shall miss for having to be at work.
so i’m sitting here feeling silly. i should have checked the website. should have, would have, could had. bah.
my lama comes back to town in march. all things considered, perhaps it is as well that i do miss this series. the last month has been fairly intensive along discovery and revelatory lines. there is a sense of being tenderized…. not quite numb, but that place just before it, where everything is hypersensitive. not so sure overload would be such a good idea.
so… instead, an entry to a writing event. an item found thanks to the laundromat and a handy copy of the local loaf. they’re having an event (contest) on the theme ‘red’. conveniently, i have just written something ‘red’ and i think i’m going to submit it.
once upon a time, i used to write relief columns for the atlanta loaf when their perspective writer took vacations or was unavailable. who knows? it would be nice to get back into it as more than hobby.
it’s odd though. i remain very ambivilant with regard to writing for publication (marketing, paid, etc.). part of it is the enjoyment of ‘doing it when i wish, not because i must’, and part of it is the thought that such things really shouldn’t be ‘for hire’… i suppose that is artistic arrogance, but perhaps not.
maybe it’s just me being ‘an alien’ again, but i don’t write about things that have no meaning to me. so everything i write is a tiny sliver of my mind, body, spirit set to words. and the idea of trading that for ‘filthy lucre’ just… well… just seems wrong.
not that i think the things i write are so spectacular. they’re not, really. just me muttering a steady stream and hoping for an echo here and there, something to tell me it finds a mark, any mark… something solid… or liquid… someone hears it… that it isn’t just me moaning to an endlessly uncaring impassivity.
the whole connection thing, of course.
listening to ‘world citizen’… ‘i want to feel, until my heart can’t take no more, i want to break the indifference of days, i won’t be disappointed… i saw a face, it was a face i didn’t know, but it told me everything about my own…’
timing is an interesting thing.
the rules for the contest do not seem to be online. yet? hm. decided to drop an email to the editor and ask. so long as i’m doing so, decided to inquire about submission guidelines as well. ya just never know.
hah! edit to add: there is an open mic poetry night at the local library! pardon me while i dance delirious delighted dizzy dangumit! oh. i am SO there. 🙂 the 18th. huzzah!