Tricky Mind

Sunday, September 13, 2020

My brain plays tricks on me. Recognizing each makes me laugh and feel irritation and anger at myself. Okay, everybody suffers brain tricks. For example, “losing keys”. Recently held and somewhere set down, they’re where! Not lost and must be nearby, forcing searches in all the usual places. On finding our keys, we acknowledge a brain trick and go on with our business.

Recently, my brain’s trick was a lulu. While working at my part-time job and feeling bored, I put pen to paper and started creating a story. I’ve yearned to start writing creatively, imagined my scribbles as beginning what might become a novel. My writing was rapid and tiny, my hand seemed moving on its own, and from my mind words flowed. I felt on my way. Upon folding that paper and putting it into my apron pocket, it seemed my creative aspect was being realized, and about time!

I got busy and forgot the writing until later that evening when I looked for the paper. Certain to have set it with the day’s mail, I searched but to no avail. I looked in all the usual places but no story-start to be found. Might I have left it in the apron pocket?

Because of the pandemic, on arriving home from work I remove all my outerwear and toss it into the washing machine. The next day I again wear everything, and with two gains: first, all’s clean, and second, no time wasted looking for an acceptable outfit. Upon remembering my apron, I hurried to the dryer. It’s open door revealed bits of dried paper floating, and for sure, my story.

My brain was protecting me from work I’ve been avoiding. Frankly, I’m an untrained writer who lacks confidence in my ability to create a long fiction. Plus, I’ve minimal time to focus on the great effort of writing decently. My heart wants to write a story, my mind doesn’t think it possible. That had been a surprising moment, finding myself putting pen to paper and scribbling. It signalled a big want.

Those bits of paper floating in the dryer told a story that may stay short or go long. After a couple of days thinking, I’ll move on and use what’s been learned. This morning, I began a new version of my story. It’s being written and saved on the computer, and in random moments, may be continued on my iPhone or iPad.

Dear Friends: Your inner-self gives clues to a mighty struggle of moving forward. Diana

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