Transition Time

I think this is my first day with nothing officially scheduled in about three months.  Seriously.  Yes, even weekends.  I’m in the process of re-balancing my life so that I don’t get quite so buried.  I gave up directing the one-act play at the high school where I teach after eight years of not only directing, but facilitating a collaborative script-writing process.  It was hard to let it go, but nice to be home in the evenings in January, instead of braving the arctic nights to rehearse after the basketball teams were finally done with the gym that houses our stage.  This spring was also my last season coaching junior high softball, after 13 years.  I finally realized that I can’t keep adding things to my life without giving up other things. Seems obvious, but I had to have it demonstrated in my own life before I caught on.  I’ll still be busy, but not, I hope, so overwhelmed.

So much outwardly-directed activity is definitely not conducive to poetry writing.  That, as much as anything else, has awakened me to the time crunch I’ve created for myself.  New rule: quiet, reflective time is on the schedule, officially, not just squeezed in around the edges.  To that end, I will be on a writing retreat on the north shore of Lake Superior–one of my favorite places on the planet–for eight days in June.  I will be working on incantations against fears for the collaborative poetry and sculpture project that I’m beginning with Tiffany Besonen.  Perhaps I’ll begin with the fears that surround slowing down and getting quiet.