the small things…and my mother’s words

Found on Tumblr (File name: tumblr_lxk4ytehyo1qzuyz3o1_500.png)

I am listening to Vivaldi‘s Four Seasons: Summer.  I did this last night as well.  I enjoy the Four Seasons in its entirety, but it is Summer that makes me yearn to reach for a life that is beyond the moments that are painful for me.  For me pain, I realise, acts as a barrier.  It shuts out my desires, my thoughts, and thus my words.  The mind contained with the brain contained within the body then no longer belongs to me.  It belongs to my pain.  Why write about this today? Well, the title says it all.  The small things in life make whatever pain I may  be experiencing seem insignificant.  I am reminded that it is temporary.  That like the music of Vivaldi, I, too, will have my crescendo after this prolonged but momentary decrescendo–this is the nature of all things in life.  We fall to rise, rise to fall.  I am not so different than anyone else.  Simply, my pain functions to punctuate the music of my life.  It brings me back down to see the world from a place of quietness…stillness even. Slowly, the music of my life is building once again.  It is a lovely thought.

(How amazing is this violinist exactly?  Yes, I am in-love…You ought to be too)
My Mother…
is an amazingly talented, hardworking, forthright, and beautiful lady.  It’s that simply.  Were I to study for the rest of my life, my knowledge could never amount to that which she possesses. Well, she and I spoke last night for the first time in about two weeks–I have a tendency to hide myself away when I am ill–and she shared with two very important things:
She told me stories about her childhood and her relationship with my grandfather, and even about my great-grandfather.
She told me also to stop hiding myself (i.e. my writing)–this kind of statement may seem strange given that I have a fairly public life (ahem, this blog, etc.).
The second point she mentioned to me after I had read to her some of my new poetry and an essay I wrote about my grandfather.  Now, one might say, Well, mothers say this kind of thing.  Well, not my mother.  She doesn’t say anything unless she absolutely means.  Her honesty is undeniable.  You can count her to tell you what’s up.  She sees it as her duty to help others see where they can improve.  Thus, you can imagine how wonderful it was for me to hear my mother tell me that my new writing was worthwhile and worthy for publication.  🙂  Yeah, I was like Yay!  Go me!

So, where does this leave me.  Well, simply that I feel more energized to write.  The question mark of am-I-good-writer that is sometimes looming largely over my head is quite diminished.  Now the question is what steps should I take to get published.  Hmm?  It seems easier said than done.

Anyone have any thoughts on the benefits of self-publishing poetry?  Or submitting essays? Well, do share if you do.  In the interim, I will be making my own investigations.
Also, I’ve just signed of for NaNoWriMo (Noational Novel Writing Month).  So, please, light a fire under me if you see my word count not increasing once I start.  Start day is November 1st and my username is diemblake. 🙂
Until Next Time!

2 thoughts on “the small things…and my mother’s words

  1. Dez Blake says:

    Dee you have been a great writer since a little girl. It is just for you to believe. I knew you were awesome when you wrote in German. I had no idea what the words meant but I was touch none the same. Continue to be you.

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