There is so much I need to write just to get it out of my system. The world has gone crazy and life is so uncertain. There are so many voices out there but none speak my truth. I looked to the blog where I put my professional opinion and coaching wisdoms and saw that this stuff bubbling up in me probably shouldn’t go there. This is more art than coaching, more heart than method. I looked to the other blog with my paintings and drawings and saw for myself the this is more word than image, more poem than paint. Where does it belong? Where should I go to speak the truth of my heart? Then I remembered once upon a time, many years and heartbreaks ago, I asked the same question (around the time I went to cut my hair). Then answer I created for myself was my own river to flow into the world with as simply me – the Singlestream. It was messy, it got me into trouble, it made me friends and lifelong enemies, it was hilarious and I belonged there.
Today marks a return to my blogging roots. I come with compassion for who I was when I was last here and with nostalgia that only comes when you visit a place you once called home only to find you are not the person you were when you left.
I went back to Durham a few years after leaving and found myself more sad than glad. Prebends Bridge was still there, but not the boy I made out with on a spring night before handing over my heart. Elves was as businesslike as usual but with no business of mine. The tree I looked out on when I would study in my room in E House at St. Aidan’s is still there, but gone are the smells of my housemates cooking downstairs or the sound of crazy Euro rock’n’roll across the hall. If I were to ever return it would be to build a new world around me and populate it afresh. I probably never will.
The Singlestream is different. This was and is wholly mine. I get to reconnect with old followers (HI GUYS! Hank, you still there?!) and I get to add to my tribe.
Things will be different this time. That is perfect in its own way.
Time to let the river run…
Dear WordPress Followers and Friends,
I invite you to pay a visit to my new blog, The Coaching Bible. To see what it’s about (you know I love my themes) have a look at the About The Coaching Bible page. See what I’ve been up to for the past few silent months.
Not to worry – the Singlestream will remain active (more active than recent months) as long as I am committed to Singleness. But if I’m being quiet over here, it’s probably because I’ve been mouthing off over there.
Lots of love!
It’s been ages since I sat down to write just for the joy of writing. Today I’m in Pittsburgh, visiting an old friend, and I’ve caught up with a load of things that have been dragging behind for me while they are at work. It feels good to be on top of my stuff enough to be cool to just sit down and write! It’s a WOW for me – How long ago did I do this? How much amazingness have I missed out on?
So much time has passed since my last casual page-blurt that I know I’m rusty. I’m like an old hinge on a seaside door that hasn’t been broken open for years, constantly exposed to the salt spray, wind and rain without a bend and now scraping off the rust and stiffness to open in true expression again. Now, wide open for the first time in ages, I never want to shut the door again!
The words are pouring out in waves of love pulling on memories of page-blurts-past, tingling with joy and talent, exploration and purpose, with memories of smells of other coffee shops and sounds of different cities.
Today it is Pittsburgh, a beautiful town-come-city waking up each morning with a welcome smile and a breath of fresh air.
I sent it to my staff and told them I never want to hear about errors in emails again. And to Bushlette. And to my mother. And to my anal retentive English teacher.
It’s a…coffee sipping, internally romantic, I-love-myself moment and have woken to the sweet sounds of my sister-love, Lady Day. We inhale our ordinary surroundings and the quietness, the stillness of this particular moment seems to serve as a reassurance that every wrong decision served it’s humble purpose and every right decision did just the same.
This morning….this type of morning comes only once a month or year or lifetime. It is the universe’s gift of self assurance, independence, and strength…but my mind is so clear and quiet that I am reminded of how easily this gift can slip away from me, through my lips, in the form of a debilitating, yet insignificant insecurity.
So I cradle my oversized coffee cup and smile as it scalds my fingertip. I kiss that same finger and use it to cover my lips. I let Billie Holiday do the talking and hope that this moment lasts long enough for me to remember it.
Here’s to my first post on the Singlestream and to everyone having a happy morning.
She’s bold, she’s beautiful, she’s a singlestreamer, and she’s NOT writing a book and taking a blog vacation. She is Bushlette!
I’d like to introduce to the Singlestream it’s first guest author. Ever. Her name is Bushlette and she is my literary baby sister. We have written together, performed together, and laughed together a lot and the Singlestream is blessed to have her while Bushlings takes a vacation.
Look out for her first post and give her a warm welcome!
My Dearest Reader,
I know you lie awake at night waiting impatiently, shaking your feet in anticipation and drumming your fingers in agitation on your arm waiting for my next blog entry. Alas I must disappoint you, Dearest, for frequent blogging and constant streaming are no longer to be.
Bushlings is taking a vacation. A break. Blog leave. From the Singlestream.
The painful truth behind our sad parting is this, dear Reader. I have distracted myself daily with this blog. My book has been left neglected near a month and is truly poorly treated despite being my favoured child.
I know you also wait in desperate anxiety for the completion of the manuscript, and so as a compromise, I will not leave you totally bereft of Bushlings’ wisdom. Once a week I will write to you – only because I know how much you need me. Only for you my Dearest. A sad shadow of the rich and constant fare to which you have grown accustomed, but I go to prepare a feast for you! Better than no fare at all, no?
All foolishness aside guys, I’m on a mission to write a book. Every time my hand itches to write, it’s so much easier to log in here and its the blog and not the book (and not really me in the long-term) that benefits. Until I’m caught up it’s book all week for me. You’ll hear from me weekly – I know I just can’t help myself so I’m being realistic – and I’ll drop an update or a sample here and there. And so, so long my friends! Until next Friday!
Have a great weekend!
There is a group that meets monthly at the largest local bookstore on island. The people who assemble come from all sorts of places with all sorts of accents and all sorts of ideas. We share our writings and speak our truths in poetry.
In the last session there was talk around A Gathering of Old Men. Quite the conversation starter, this little book of stories. I had a friend recite the poem of Theophilus Brown and the power of this timbre married to the spirit of that poem brought to life the warrior of the old Obi man sent back to Africa on the ninth night. From the performance came the discussion of ideas – the purpose of our gifts, the power of words, the feelings of victims, the obedience to the powers that be, the pointlessness of rebellion, and revolutions of history. The story of Salomé Ureña, the Dominican poet, was savoured. An Ecuadorian shared her story of three poets from her hometown who were responsible for the removal of a brutal despot. She quoted one of them saying “There is nothing harder than the softness of indifference.” (Juan Montalvo) A Jamaican spoke of the stigma attached to the black cat and the themes of racism in societies of the Caribbean today. A Barbadian distinguished the Jamaican story from the histories of the other islands. A young man asked “How do you see revolution?” and an answer was given “Authenticity – each of us is responsible for our own story, to be it truthfully and boldly”. Another answer was “Be the change you wish to see in your world.”
And it was decided. For the month of July, to remember the American 4th and the purpose of the poet, the Floetry theme will be Revolution.
As my fellow floets turn to the task of writing, there is some inspiration to be found in what has already been written. This is one of my new favourites.
It amazes me the things that can be done with a few words. Every day I open my blog dashboard and look at my stats and I am humbled. The girl who didn’t think anyone would care much what she said has found her home in a blog that has been visited by 33 countries in 30 days. And all I’ve done is write!
The visits are one thing, but the followers quite another. You honour me, my dear Readers. You really honour me. I am inspired by your comments, driven by your suggestions, and honoured by your attention.
Today, not surprisingly for a Monday morning, I am dreaming about this being a full-time thing. If I could write for a living I would never work, I would only live.