White Lace and Promises

Have you noticed how everything starts out perfect and promising?

A new home. A new car. A new project. A new relationship. An idea. Each day. Life itself.

Today is the Rebellion’s third anniversary. This is the five hundred and sixty-second post. Wow. I can’t say I haven’t been writing, can I?

I started the blog why? Well, why not?

That was the title of my first post. I had to revisit it, to remind myself of what “why not” meant at the time. It seems I’ve remained true to my original intention, which was to share writerly thoughts, bits of fiction, quotes from heroes, and philosophical hypotheses developed over the course of my journey through this phase. In some ways, not much has changed. I’m still writing the same novel. I’m still working on my attitude, trying to create a positive vibe in a world of ever increasing contrast. I’m still imperfect and hoping to improve as I go.

I have, however, discovered something wonderful. Three years later, I am happier now than I have ever been.

Blogging is not solely responsible for my progress, but it’s helped. At least I can look back and see the trail behind me. It’s taught me a few things, that’s for sure. Things like, the smallest piece can trigger the greatest response. I get comments about things that I forget almost as soon as I’ve written them, while my treasures are seemingly passed without notice. A good reminder to “detach from the outcome” and not be too invested in the end result!

Remarkably, the poem that Nicole wrote for my fortieth birthday is equally relevant today, after fifteen years and five hundred-plus posts, so here it is again, because I love it and I love Nicole for writing it, and because it’s the nucleus around which the Rebellion is built. It was the promise of the CR’s potential when I stepped into cyberspace thirty-six months ago.

Enjoy again!

With love,

Sitting on a Shady Veranda with Ruthie Wordsmyth

 “You are the Saint of Storytelling.”

I tell her while sharing bits of

smooth candy and cups of green tea
sitting on a shady veranda under a Vienna sky.

“The Zeitgeist of Paragraph! 

Mistress of Manuscript Extravaganza!”

I tell her this because it is the truth

my friend, the writer, word-spinner
is the main character of a poetic prophecy
rising with an exquisite voice
an Enchanted Empress baring her
woven soul into spirals of fiction
into epiphanies of elemental editing.

My literary gentlewoman friend

the Storyteller, Princess of Plentitude
is the keynote speaker at a symposium
for the Gorgeous Struggle
offering simple directions to the center
of the universe and sundry side-streets of Sublime.

Her biography will soon be available in trade paperback

autographed copies of Comfortable Rebellion
will grace the bookshelves of admiring fans
but will pale in comparison to my first edition hardcover
inscribed with her permanent wisdom.

Inside will the near-art experience booklovers have longed for a fort-night

inside there will be polaroid pictures, convictions and conversations
dreams and disappointments though her tears will be absent
saved in a mason jar on the edge of her prolific writing table.

“You are the Operatic Melody of my heart!”

I tell her while brewing a fresh pot of green tea.

“A Victorious Virago!”

I tell her this because it is true.

“What would I do without you?”  I ask her.

She just smiles, shrugs her shoulders 

and tells me another story.