I've been posting on my author blog. Lots of pictures of the kids at the writing workshops. Taran very good-naturedly took some head shots of me as all my existing pictures were awful or really out of date. I stopped having pix taken when I got fat, but now I'm getting skinny again.
The author blog sounds kind of sales-y. When I'm trying to earn money I get like that. It's irritating, cloying. I want to tell people that's not really me. But then, I don't know if long, brooding posts are what parents are looking for when they are trying to find writing workshops for their kids.
I cried through the inauguration, from Aretha Franklin to the closing benediction. What a day! I feel some hope for this country for the first time -- ever? Was this how people felt about Kennedy?
I spent some time with the icons in the new chapel Lancelot put in. (Maybe I will post a pic. What the heck?) 
I'm loving the chapel more and more. In a sacred space the heart is more willing to open. Mine has been heavy this evening, despite the inauguration. Breaking over Maverick again. I have felt Christ telling me to get back into my heart, but it's full of pain. He says, "Don't worry; I'll be there." To be a mother is to have a broken heart. But maybe that's how we find our own way back home.
Will I write about this one day? Sometimes I think yes. Other times I think it would be career suicide.
And I need to just get really, really quiet in order to write authentically. No salesmanship. No mailing lists. Stillness.
Tess
2 comments:
Just thinking of you today...wish I had brave words. Unlike you, I haven't finished my website. You'r ahead of me there. And yes, I stopped because it sounded like an infomercial.
And too, I still feel the weight of what I'm comissioned to do. And lol, your one of the ones who planted that seed there. Yet I face it, and still worry about what others wil think, or perceive me, or my family. I tell myself that this story doesn't need to be told. Nobody else has told it. Why should I risk everything to do so?
I have no career to kill.
Only a soul.
~ hb
Ah, but H, you are braver than me. I say my heart is breaking over Maverick, but I never say why. What if you allowed yourself to write this story under a pseudonym?
I love it that you're posting here. You're one person out there in the big, bad Internet that I feel safe with.
Tess
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