Alright so I’m a writer. My dream is to write, sell books, maybe run some workshops, and some mentoring. I need constant reminders that anything else is a hobby or an interest or a challenge I’d like to face and not my calling.
So I was thinking and visualizing myself in the future. I was thinking about who I am and who I want to be, I saw myself writing at a table surrounded by huge scrolls. Huge. Like from the ceiling to the floor. When I saw this image, I felt peace, solitude, and familiarity. I find our minds fascinating and I was inspired to see myself writing while also slightly disappointed by not being surrounded by piles of money.
But it got me thinking about how writers were treated much differently in ancient Egypt. They were called scribes back then and did hieroglyphs. So of course I had to do some looking into the scribe life. Here’s a few tidbits I found on Historytoday.com:
“The text known as the Satire of the Trades dates to the Middle Kingdom, the Golden Age of Egyptian literature, between 2025 and 1700 BC. It belongs to a genre known as ‘Wisdom Texts’, supposed collections of the experiences of learned and influential men to be shared with following generations as advice on behaviour, deportment and career advancement. In the Ramesside era (1300-1075 BC), the Satire of the Trades was one of the texts most frequently copied by student scribes. It compares a scribe’s work with that of other trades and crafts in an attempt to persuade the student that education will make him better off than anyone else. The introduction, supposedly written by a father for his son, reads:
I have seen many beatings – set your heart on books! I have watched those conscripted for labour – there is nothing better than books! It [scribedom] is the greatest of all callings, there is none like it in all the land.
I’d like more snow. I don’t like driving in it but I like to look at it. It’s so pretty and I like how everything seems quieter after it snows. (Global warming is no fun at all.) In honor of snow days here’s a poem from Robert Frost
I’m feeling lazy today. I was on mom duty, and I don’t like to start projects unless I know I’m going to be able to work on them without being interrupted. So I didn’t get much done.
Fortunately, I have had time to think about my novel and the underground community that’s a big part of the plot. I tend to lean light and love when it comes to creating. The trouble comes when it’s time to edit and develop a nice juicy plot. We want some conflict, everything and everyone can’t turn out perfect and full of love and good choices. So right now I’m trying to decide what direction my underground community is going to go. Are they going to be a good group of people with a dirty little secret? or Are they gunna be bad people with an innocent veneer? I don’t know why the moral integrity of this community is so hard for me to decide on. Normally, I make a choice and go with it and if it doesn’t work I start over. I guess a lot of me wants the underground community to be upright and resemble the good side of humanity.
My head is killing me. It started hurting around 11 and it stopped for a bit while I was in the shower in the dark but then came back. One of my long long time ago exboyfriends taught me about a pressure point between our pointer and thumb and that’s what helped for the tiny bit of time that I was relieved. Pressure points are so interesting to me. They kinda remind me of Rhizomes, Here’s a quick definition of what a rhizome is from Britannica.com
rhizome, also called creeping rootstalk, horizontal underground plantstem capable of producing the shoot and root systems of a new plant. Rhizomes are used to store starches and proteins and enable plants to perennate (survive an annual unfavourable season) underground. In addition, those modified stems allow the parent plant to propagate vegetatively (asexually), and some plants, such as poplars and various bamboos, rely heavily on rhizomes for that purpose. In plants such as water lilies and many ferns, the rhizome is the only stem of the plant. In such cases, only the leaves and flowers are readily visible. Notably, the rhizomes of some species—including ginger, turmeric, and lotus—are edible and valued for their culinary applications.
And here’s the definition or nerve from google:
a whitish fiber or bundle of fibers that transmits impulses of sensation to the brain or spinal cord, and impulses from these to the muscles and organs.
Now I’m the type of person to make connections where there are none but for some reason Nerves and Rhizomes seem to function similarly besides the whole reproduction part. Unless we’re talking about cells, then that might work. We could go real far and throw in the frequency of our vibrations but I think that’s going too far. So let’s reel it back in. Rhizomes are under ground. Our Nerves are under the skin. Rhizomes branch out under ground. Nerves branch out throughout the body. Nerves help us with survival. The roots of a Rhizome help them survive. If you lose a nerve you won’t die. If a Rhizome loses a root it won’t die.
I’m so interested in these Float tanks they have out there these days. They’ve been around for a while but they are more accessible now. I want to try them out. I hear some people have pretty cool experiences. I just know, I love baths. and I love when the lights are out while I’m in the bath and I love dunking my head under when the lights are out. So I think I’ll really enjoy one of these Float Tanks.
With all the things we are bombarded with these days, it seems like this should be a normal thing like going to get your nails done or going to the gym. There’s always technology and ads and some event I have to get to or a new lesson I want to listen to. But I don’t decompress nearly as often as I go out in search of stimulation.
Now that I’m writing this, I realize I really do need to focus more on decompressing from it all. My goal for this year is to go floating at least once. That’s my 2022 goal, to decompress more often and to go floating at least once. Ok now let’s see if I can make it happen.
Today I stayed home with my little one and worked on my novel. I’m working on the protagonist community and their belief system. I think developing my protagonist more will help me with details in the rest of the story. Especially since the protagonist is an entire community rather than just one individual.
I was pretty tired with a headache today but my oldest and I managed to get the grocery shopping done and clean out the fridge. I’m surprised I got anything done today. My head was killing me all day. It’s surprising to me that I painted with my youngest, wrote, grocery shopped, and cleaned out the fridge.
Today was my first day back to the gym since I got sick. It felt nice to be there. I was more mindful of my mask because I don’t want to get anyone else sick but besides that, it was nice. I took it easy. I didn’t wanna over do it because I want to want to go back. There’s a writer who stops his daily writing for the day at a point in his story where he knows what’s going to happen next. That’s how I workout. I can still push a little harder but I’ll step away so I’m not laid out the next day. I’m trying to create daily healthy habits when it comes to the gym. Right now it’s less about losing weight for me. I know I can slim down and gain muscle because I did it easy when I wasn’t on mom duty. So once my little one is back in school and more independent bam I’m already ready for gym mode a few times a week because I been doing it.
As for my writing. It’s already a daily habit. There’s more at stake when it comes to writing for me because it’s my life, my future, and my calling. So missing writing days has a huge negative effect on my life. It’s not worth missing a day. Working out for me is an important healthy habit but it’s more like something I enjoy doing. It’s less of a daily habit. 3-4x a week is good.
So it was a good gym day and I’m happy to be back at it.
I spent the day cleaning and getting my home back in order. It was really nice to get things organized and feel like I have some order in my home again. On Sundays, I listen to Elevation Church with Steven Furtick, The Potter’s House with TD Jakes, and Serius Joy with Sensei Christopher Witecki. It’s a lot a spiritual guidance in day but it just makes my whole day. Feels like it prepares me for my week ahead, especially since I listen to them while I clean. I’m always open to switching up my routine but that’s what I listen to for now and it makes me feel better about my life.
Playdoh with my daughters was fun tonight. My youngest got playdoh for Christmas. She was excited to play with it. I played with her so we could have some time together and then my oldest joined in. Something about playdoh with the kids that makes me feel like a good mom.
Even with all the extra snuggles, I haven’t been feeling like the best mom since I’ve gotten sick but tonight has been real nice. We listened to music while making playdoh pizzas and cookies sitting at the dinning room table.
We all used our imaginations in our very own worlds together. Together but separate. My natural instinct is to compare us playing with playdoh together, with writing. The only way I can compare the two, is that both require imagination and an invitation to pretend together.
Today I watched a cold case that got solved 27 years later. The technology we have today to identify DNA helped confirm the killer. The killer wrote a book about how he was a changed man and stopped committing crimes. There was no rhyme or reason to why he chose the couple he chose. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. While watching, I was snuggled up with my husband trying to escape from feeling like shit. It worked. Anything to distract from the pains of covid is welcomed in my opinion.
It’s crazy how you never know when your last day will be. But it’s also motivating. Think about your values and honor them while you can. My family is one of my top values so the little bouts of energy that I get, I share with them right now. I’m not saying this to invoke living in fear. I won’t live in fear. I say this because sometimes I need to remember that tomorrow isn’t promised so I can intentionally honor my values, love myself, and love my loved ones.