Tag Archives: Book Writing Saturday

Book Writing Saturday: On Hiatus

decembersunriseFour months ago, I committed myself to spending four hours of every Saturday working on my book, (of course, at that time, I had no idea that my sweet Dexter was about to be diagnosed with a fatal cancer, that I was also entering a season of good-bying). I am still committed to the practice, to that text, to that goal, but have decided to take the next month off from it, to take a little break. This won’t be a rest break, or a retreat, but rather a chance to do another practice more completely: Reverb12.

This practice is intended to help me process this past year and to look ahead into the next. I’m going to spend the time reflecting, setting my resolve, contemplating, celebrating, and considering–and sharing the process with you, kind and gentle reader.

Carolyn Rubenstein describes the origins of Reverb this way:

Back in 2010, three woman, Gwen BellKaileen Elise, and Cali Harris started what they named #reverb10. It was a prompt a day throughout December, delivered via email to help you reflect on the year and manifest what was to come in the upcoming year. The questions came from 31 different people across the web.

She goes on to say that

Closing in on December 2011, the #reverb10 team sent out an email
saying that for 2011, they were not hosting it again, and gave steps
on how anyone, and everyone, could host their own #reverb11. So many
people took up the torch—and I am hoping the same will happen again
for #reverb12.

I will be taking part in the Reverb that Kat is hosting at I Saw You Dancing. However, I’ll also be considering the prompts I’ve seen elsewhere:

First post coming tomorrow. For now, good night beautiful people, beautiful day.

Book Writing Saturday

Last night, Dexter and I played with his baby monkey until he fell asleep. Then I sat with him, his front feet pressed against my leg, the heat of his body warming me, the sound of his breath, the sound of our breath together, in and out, in and out. It was the purest of moments, sweet and quiet and joyful. The only reminders of his cancer were his runny eye and my sadness.

As always, in these moments when we are together and in love and nothing is wrong, I remind myself to just be there, to let go of panic and fear and grief, not to force those feelings away but to let them be with me, and even as I let them rest to also not cling or get attached, let those feelings leave when they are ready to go, allow them to dissolve.

And yet, I can’t help wishing that this sweet good-bying would go on forever, the two of us here together like this.

To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
~Mary Oliver