So it’s been a minute or two since I last wrote, but while you may think I’ve been dilly-dallying my life away and ‘wasting’ precious moments like a child skipping through a field of grass, arms-outstretched to the sky, I promise I haven’t been a solely squishy mess of indolent flesh. I’ve been paying bills, renovating a house, raising children, maintaining sanity (most of the time), and clinging ferociously to my outrageous mid-life dreams. And now it’s time to get back to my hellfire spirit and write. For that, I’m ditching the uninspired corporate world where I’ve spent the past decade literally writing hundreds of thousands of soulless words (your corporate world might be inspiring so no judgement here!) and have decided to live a life of quiet art. (More next time about the practicalities of how I’m doing that without becoming homeless.)
Who knew it would take me decades to fling open the doors to my own party, but here I am! And I’m inviting you to join me!
Here you’ll find bubbles and spritzers, coffee and chai and even some writing + a little about my creative pilgrimage as I crawl and leap, skip and weep my way along this narrow hilltop path that has the most amazing views of the horizon. I swear I can almost see the other side of the world from here.
It seems inevitable to be here finally, choosing my destiny, because I’ve always had that power; I’d just forgotten somewhere along the line. I’m not sure why I was so scared before, but somehow that’s gone now too, and I think it’s because The Pull finally has me in its thrall.
The following poem was dreamed into being overnight. I woke up with the words fully formed and on the tip of my tongue. I was so afraid I’d forget them that I kept mumbling the lines over and over again until I roused myself and wrote them down at my desk.
If you’re asking why now, this is my answer.
The Pull
I can’t help but feel the Pull.
Is it a noose around my neck or a lifeline?
I go with the latter and reach out because I’m drowning anyway.
I’m airborne and swing from side to side.
Exhilarated and terrified as if high on childhood.
Rootless, I see the possibility.
It’s over there on the horizon—
The horizon of possibility
This is the Pull
Urging me beyond myself.
My soul has felt that pull for eons.
Sometimes I’ve been dragged towards its wisdom; sometimes I’ve died resisting.
And sometimes, I think, I’ve inched my way closer.
This is one of those times.
On the upward swing, I let go of my lifeline and fly towards my horizon of possibility.
For this moment, I am light, filled with the rising sun.
– Margie Telford 2020
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