It has been a pretty wild couple of months - many weeks where the only thing I wrote was list after list of things that needed to get done. Today was the first day I sat down and wrote some words on a page that were not about doing.

Before we decided to sell and move into the trailer full time I had been working on a couple of projects. An essay collection based on photos from our travels last year during the height of the pandemic, and a poetry project that I have been calling the “Excavated and Found Poems”. These are poems that I am creating from my twenty year old journal pages. Before we started the process of moving I had been completing a found poem everyday, and also working on my essays, finishing seven essays in what is to be a collection of twelve. And then I left it all hanging while I got the house packed up.

This morning I returned to my work and my writing (it feels so good to say that as I am often asked what my work is and I always struggle to articulate it since I am not receiving any compensation for it yet, and it still feels sort of loosey goosey).

But as soon as I finished morning prayers I pulled out my journal, my notebook for the essay project, and one page from my photo copied journal, and got to work. It felt like such a treat. I had been worrying that I would never find time to write but instead I am seeing how this new life will give me more opportunities to create. I just need to figure out the rhythm and that will take time. But that is okay, I am learning how to be patient and to trust the unfolding as it happens - I don’t know what that rhythm will be but I am listening closely for it’s melody and willing to sing along.