Refilling

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Somewhere, amid the darkness,
a painter measures a blank canvas,
a poet tests a line aloud,
a songwriter brings a melody into tune.
Art inspires, provokes thought, reflects beauty and pain.
I seek it out even more in these times.
And in so doing, I find hope in the human spirit.

~ Dan Rather (via Twitter)

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The past couple of weeks have been unusually insane.

From the delightful (taking a dear friend out for his birthday), the exciting (joining a new singing group) and the thrilling (some news you’ll hear about in a later post), to the aggravating (a longtime client who was refusing to honor his promise to pay me at the agreed-upon time), the heartbreaking (my elderly aunt, who lives about 500 miles away and may be in her final days), the frustrating (an as-yet-unscheduled meeting, the scheduling of which I cannot control in any way), and the stressful (a brief to be prepared according to unfamiliar rules and filed in a court I’ve never dealt with), it’s been a whirlwind. So, on Friday night, when I finally received confirmation that the brief had been filed, I declared a holiday weekend. (Since I worked most of Labor Day weekend, I viewed it as comp time.) Continue reading

Staying Awake

“Being centered to write is accepting the mess, loving the mess, celebrating the mess, and writing about the mess.”

~~Dacia R. Ball

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A few weeks ago, I posted about solitude. As one who lives alone, my perspective was obviously limited. Today, poet Dacia R. Ball offers insights about balancing the call of the creative life with the demands of motherhood. Welcome, Dacia!

Dacia Miller Ball

STAYING AWAKE

by Dacia R. Ball

I was a floundering mother with fears and self-doubt who carried within me an ardent need to understand life in all its intricacies. This was a blessing and a curse. I saw the other side, the transcendent parts of living not visible to plain sight, but I was contained within the physical demands of feedings, dirty linens, and a body fighting postpartum depression.

Through the encouragement of a community of fellow writers, I was able to return to a craft I began in my twenties and had set aside while becoming a mother in my thirties. Poetry and essays became an outlet for my musings. My sporadic blog posts ranged from theological rants to accounts of spontaneous road trips. Continue reading