“Every creator’s creations are their coping mechanism for life — for the loneliness of being, for the longing for connection, for the dazzling incomprehension of what it all means. What we call art is simply a gesture toward some authentic answer to these open questions, at once universal and intimately felt — questions aimed at the elemental truths of being alive, animated by a craving for beauty, haunted by the need to find a way of bearing our mortality.”
Maria Popova, The Marginalian, November 26, 2022
It was an early start to the day. Waking at 3, rising at 4, I took seat on the sofa. Candle lit, wrapped in a blanket, I closed my eyes and counted my breaths. Thinking. About packing for our upcoming trip to Niagara. Return to counting. Thinking. About finding time to catch up and listen to the past week’s Rewilding conversations. Focus on my breath. Thinking. Now a barrage of thoughts about yesterday’s poetry intensive with Edmonton’s past Poet Laureate Alice Major. Thinking. Thinking. Five quiet beeps. So soon?
Hmmmm…I just spent a couple of hours writing today’s post. Ready to add photos and schedule publishing time, I just lost everything except for the above bits.
It’s been one of those days. We’d planned to go to the theatre this afternoon. Left in plenty of time. Made a stop along the way and suddenly we’d lost a needed half hour. We hit every red light making arrival on time impossible. So surrendering to something inexplicable at play, I called the box office, explained our situation, cancelled our tickets and we returned home.
Coming down to the studio tonight to write, I didn’t have anything in mind but tapping I managed to cobble together a piece on preparing myself to prepare my poetry manuscript for the next round of submissions come the new year. Not meant to be published, I guess.
That rewilding course… every week emphasizes paying attention to the nature’s messages and patterns that might appear irrational but have an innate wisdom. I might be getting the message.
Much love and kindest regards, dear friends.
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A Wabi Sabi Life 
my dear sister writer, I clicked open this blog with the question in my mind: how does Katharine call herself to such consistency of beauty and offering while I am floundering for my voice beyond the just finished book? And so it was incredibly “supportive” to read these flounderings… exquisitely expressed as they are. May you be well in the long dark and short light. I cock my ear to the wind for your words. love.
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Dear “Someone”, the moments you and our other “someone” take to read and reply to my posts are lifelines creating a web of support and balm holding me afloat in this often lonely, occasionally doubt-filled new vocation. Much love.
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Did it come in anonymous? It’s me–cbee.
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Yes, as “someone” but I saw your photo so knew it was you. Thought you’d prefer a bit of anonymity this morning.
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