Saturday, August 6, 2011


I am sure you are no different than anyone else.  There are just some days we all feel like we need to be carried. Need to tuck into a bag and let someone tote us around to wherever we need to be. Wherever we yearn to be. A shot of adrenalin wouldn't hurt either.

Today is one of those days.  For two weeks I have blocked every day to complete the manuscript for my new book K-9's ~ An Antidote for PTSD.  Well I haven't touched it! And not for lack of trying. Quite the contrary.

Where the days and time goes I cannot tell you.  But what I can offer is that I have not left my office once this week.  Or if I have, I have no idea where I went. I sometimes don't know if it is day or night.  The drapes closed tightly hiding the secret.  If it weren't for my dogs demanding breakfast or dinner, the secret would remain hidden.

I want to escape this horrific heat of 106 + daily.  I want to go to the mountains and listen to the wind in the aspen and smell the clear clean air and fish for trout in a mountain stream.  I want to remember what it is like to hear the voice of God in the thunder in the high, breathtakingly fragrant  mountains. I want to breathe deeply at the beginning of the day, the end of the day and not sit at a computer endlessly for 14-18 hours.  I want to write, as I sit on a porch about life, dreams, hopes, disappointments, love, grief, joy, and how to live one day, one hour at a time.  I want people to read what I write and feel somewhat comforted, or as least vindicated and normal.  I want, I want, I want. 

For some reason this morning, I remember sitting in a door way at a small pine table in a casita in Santa Fe right off the Plaza near the Georgia O'Keeff museum, writing about the evening before when I had spoken to 50-60 rapists, pedophiles, and murderers in the New Mexico State Prison, followed by dinner and champagne at a four star restaurant with friends. My head was spinning.  Today I remember the feeling of that 40 degree morning and the sun rising over the mesa.  I remember a surreal feeling of being in another time and place. I remember peace and I remember never wanting to leave that doorway.

Why am I remembering this this morning.  I have no idea.  I only wish I were there.  Have you ever been to a place where you know you belong and have some deep spiritual connection?  For me it is Colorado and New Mexico.  It has been 6 years since I have been to NM and 10 since I was able to fall in love with 'my mountains' again.  I miss them both.  The ache is sometimes unbearable. Today it is.

Not too long ago I was asked 'what would make you happy, really happy?'  Now I know.  But here I sit behind on a deadline on my book, stacks and stacks of  work to be done, a calendar that is frightening, and a lump in my throat that doesn't seem to go away. The muse is missing, the drive is missing, and the spirit yearns to be elsewhere.  But here I sit. 

A scrap of torn paper on my desk with a broken staple in it says, "Write down the thoughts of the moment.  Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable."  Frances Bacon must know my mind.

So now back to the land of PTSD and writing about the mental crippling of our warriors and their battle. But this morning I can't get it out of my head that I am fighting my own battle. 

How I wish I were in the mountains.

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