truth and meaning found (found) in writing

It’s been a while since I did one of these ‘defining’ posts (I’ve decided that’s what I’ll call them.) This one has a twist, and perhaps if you’ve really been paying attention to the blog, you’ll see why.


In just the past couple weeks I’ve started to feel as though my life had returned to the level of busyness that I had existed in pre-pandemic. While the busyness of the variety of my commitments doesn’t yet look the same as they did pre-pandemic, the stress associated with those demands had bullied itself back into my life just as strongly as before, however the signs that had accompanied it’s arrival this time were different, more muted, blending into the background. It had been sneaking up on me: the Boil v1.04.

The good news was that the lessons of the pandemic’s arrival have held and I realized that I was succumbing to the Boil again (whatever version it is now). I’m sure it’s a Jack Herer inspired thought but: thank fuck the designers, creators and writers of this new version of the Matrix weren’t on their A game before releasing it, or I might have been lost to it, again. (And yes, I’m looking very much forward to revisiting.)

The inspiration to write this post started to shape itself in the past few days. My first writing course since high school is now complete and while the course experience wasn’t really what I hoped for (a how to become a better writer in eight short weeks), it did allow me to define just what type of a writer I am, but perhaps also provided a life changing lesson.

With thanks and appreciation to the course’s instructor, I now believe I have a label to apply to my style: Creative Non-Fiction Writer. For whatever reason I don’t feel ready to pigeon hole myself to just the one classification as a writer, but my leanings toward fiction might only lean so far as semi-fiction, as I cannot seem to call upon the muse to create ideas from a blank slate (I think that slate disappeared when the crayon was put into my right hand instead of my left in kindergarten) without a lot of creative focus, which I can rarely summon.

My creative writing course stayed true to it’s description, focusing on story telling, something that had been well outside of my comfort zone until I realized it was okay to call upon real life experiences in order to generate copy and satisfy the objectives of the course (in this case two 1000 word assignments and peer reviews). I now realize that it’s impossible to write anything that is without influence, and that has helped me find some peace in what I once considered a creative inadequacy I held. (Think how much better your life would be if you were able to accept this reality when the crayon was put in your hand versus waiting to middle age to figure out?) As far as my story writing ability goes, well, based on feedback, I might be able to stretch my range into semi-fiction, so I may not discard the premise I explored during the course, and instead explore it and the style further as a writing canvas to be pulled out when and if the spirit, the muse, revisits it, but it isn’t what comes naturally to me.

Truth unlocked: It doesn’t come naturally to me.

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an update from a suitably seasonally snowy now

It strikes me that getting another post up in only just about six weeks since my last one really should be considered to be progress, if not yet qualifying in my mind as a victory.  Small steps toward victory (and whatever I decide that looks like for me) will have to do for this post from the Now.

With my pre-pandemic lifestyle and routine now for the largest part a distant, dusty memory hidden in the back of my mind, the challenge I have faced this fall has been to develop a new routine that now incorporates virtual elements into my ongoing work and volunteer endeavours, and makes myself as a higher priority.  I hope these efforts will not be shoved aside or trampled by whatever new world order establishes itself post-pandemic.


Early in the pandemic, any thoughts I had about what life might look like for me post-pandemic really didn’t visualize themselves in my mind as anything other than a vast, black void of space, but now, as more and more signs of the life we once knew reappearing around us, that black void has been becoming lighter, and filling with a hazy grey.  I decided as the haze grew that I wanted to take an active role in giving it hard lines and definition.  Assisting me is the realization that I’ve also finally accepted the truth about the past: it cannot be changed, and the only way to move forward into the future unfettered, is to let go of it.

what lies in the mist? i don’t know, i haven’t created it yet.

What sparked this line of thinking for me was the recognition of just how completely out of balance my volunteer endeavours, demands of work, and personal commitments have been with each other, even when two out of three factors continue to be conducted primarily virtually.  The commutes between home, work, and volunteer sites, might have consumed time and money, but did they did not call upon the expenditure of a lot of mental energy, and as I’m realizing now, those travels did provide a chance for a break to think and an opportunity to catch my breath.  In the new world order that awaits us, the danger is allowing the former commute time to be quickly and easily filled by meetings and their resulting commitments.  With the coming of the new order, the Boil is starting to look an even bigger threat, and one that would not be as gradual or painless to fall into once again. 

Continue reading “an update from a suitably seasonally snowy now”

muse rediscovered? at what cost?

As it should be abundantly clear if you’ve followed my posting history even slightly, I’ve only managed to write periodically as I have been challenged in catching up with the ever elusive muse over the past few months.  I’ve not yet fallen back into the reasonable comfort and drive I felt last October when I started the blog with the goal of trying to find time to write, and post two to three times a week. 

That goal might have been a bit overly optimistic for me given I’m still working to rediscover my lost art of more than a couple decades.  It appears I’ve yet to establish a process to revisit the muse frequently enough to inspire sufficient content generation, but have also lacked the focus and drive to push the few ideas further along the path to something more shareable than what has been captured in notebooks, post it notes, mind maps, or audio recordings.  There will be more on this topic that I will share in time, maybe.  I must acknowledge there’s a voice in the back of my head, questioning, somewhat sarcastically, if I ever will. 

the truth hurts
Continue reading “muse rediscovered? at what cost?”