“You have brains in your head,
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You’re on your own and you know what you know
And you’re the one who’ll decide where to go.”
Dr. Seuss
Adventures in Aging
About the time the rust was falling to the floor
My knee took on a red-orange glow,
Unfortunately forced to head for the door
Waiting to watch what The Dude might know;
Now at home with my pain and my peas
Some saline signals the need for change,
With acupuncture, pills, and trees,
I believe again in a dancer’s range.
Hello again, and thank you Ms. Woolf
I regretfully am surrendering to my now almost month long effort of stock-piling drafts of past days posts in order to let them all loose in a torrent that would get me up to speed with my ambition. I have been trying to keep up with the post-a-day resolution, if it wasn’t on-line then on paper, but even that has fallen by the wayside. So I now admit that I will not adhere strictly to the resolution’s timeline but rather to it’s spirit of continual creation. (I will be posting past entries for the next few days so keep checking the calendar) The fissure between my past and present beliefs occurred this morning through the combined voice of Garrison Keillor and Virginia Woolf. In hopes of bolstering my recovering immune system by means of the body and the soul, I listened to the Writer’s Almanac on-line while preparing some breakfast. The result was even more than I had hoped for. I must start by saying that today is the birthday of the great novelist and essayist Virginia Woolf, born in London in 1882. While I sheepishly admit that I have yet to devour one of her works, the increasing number of quotes from her novels and essays that have left me in awe lead me to believe that now is the ideal time(as it always reveals itself to be). But before I continue cutting the potatoes or whisking the eggs, I am compelled to both convey this brilliant quote of hers to you now and also to expunge my artistic gatekeeper who has been so hard at work this past month in an attempt to truly do what I wish to do: create, inspire, admire, repeat. “So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. But to sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treachery, and the sacrifice of wealth and chastity, which used to be said to be the greatest of human disasters, a mere flea-bite in comparison.” –Virginia Woolf, A Room Of One’s Own
