
It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon. It’s hot out at 32℃. I’m cranky. It’s not a good time to start anything but here I am doing it anyways. If I wait for an optimal time, I would not get anything done. Yesterday I harvested herbs (basil, oragano and thyme) to dry at high noon when it was the hottest. That and being late August with mature plant growth does not make for the best harvest to dry either. But it is the time when I’m moved to do it. And that makes it the best time for me.
Right now, in my grouchy sweaty mood, I’m moved to start a daily practice of writing – again. I’m inspired by Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones. When inspiration and perspiration hit, I must act, if not immediately, soon. I should have started this morning but I had another daily practice of going to the garden(s) and harvesting. It’s hard to juggle everything. I had to choose the best time for each. Morning would be optimal to be working outside on a hot day. I can write afternoons in the cool of the house.
So why am I torturing myself this way? For one thing, I do love words and writing. It has been my way of staying sane, sorting out the chaos in my head. It is a physical act as well as mental. It is stress relieving. The rhythmic tapping soothes and smooths the kinks in my mind. It is also good discipline. I’m heeding Goldberg’s advice of not overthinking, over editing, censoring. I will let it all out – within reason and good taste, of course. This is another first day of the rest of my life.

