Letters and Discipline

 I probably still have 80 to 90% of my letters to Will and Will's letters to me.  Most of them are safely stored for the time being.  But sometimes one will turn up -- fall out of a book or fall out of a recently opened box.  

Here's a postcard that fell out of a book I was loading up to take to Goodwill.  It's one of the one-a-day haiku cards I sent to Will while I was at Norcroft.

Half moon between trees
wishes the sun, "Good morning,"
still in her nightgown.

Norcroft was a women writers' mostly silent retreat way up north in Minnesota near Lutsen on the banks of Mother Superior.  I would re-punctuate this haiku.

As you can see, I'm not much of a haiku scribbler, unlike my friend Lorna Cahall.  I wrote one a day and sent them to my sweetie.  It was a good practice.  That discipline is part of what I'm seeking now -- the energy and self love to "make" myself be creative rather than just consuming other people's creativity.

It'll happen. It's already beginning to happen.  I come to my office here every morning.  I write SOMEthing every day.  And, mirabile dictu, for the first time in over a month I woke up this morning ready to face the day.   I'm actually happy right now.  Is it because I saw four close friends last week (two live)?  Is it because I watched Damn Yankees with my church cine group last night?  Is it because I bought myself a surprise birthday trip?  Or is it something more mundane like I ate enough protein yesterday?  Who knows. 
 

This morning