Just before COVID I took a writing class at a local Zen Center. The teacher’s name is Susan Moon, who I believe is from the Bay Area. She recommended a book, "Writing Down The Bones” by Natalie Goldberg. I’m struggling at the moment to do this…to just write. Do I still want to examine the bones?
In another life I was a poet. I was younger, obviously, confused, angry at myself, and, well… really fucked up. Writing was screaming out into the void. Now it's the ether...
In that life I made many bad decisions; chose a terrible partner (and if I’m honest, so did she). The long sad ordeal ended up ruining me financially. There was nothing profound about it. Who wanted to read about it? Ten years gone.
I got divorced. I tried numbing my mind and body with alcohol, and various intoxicants. Driving hard in a race to oblivion.
I reached my bottom before total destruction. I got sober. I found another partner. She saved my life. I found great sex. I found Zen Buddhism and I found gratitude.
How do I write about this life?
What comes to say is to write about the gratitude; hard fought gratitude. Write about the sweetness of that.
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