As the Grass Grows

Ordinarily, I find a quotation after I write my blog post. This time, it was a quotation that inspired this essay. Why have I flipped things around? I have mentioned from time to time a writing project of mine. Some that know me may have heard about many different writing projects I have undertaken. There’s a story that became an ‘under the bed’ story. A story that seemed full of promise. A promise that faded away. Then there was a addictions nursing manual - too clinical! Little bits of poetry I’ve struggled with. And of course, Situationally Theirs, my pandemic story with Dez and Emelina. How and when will that wrap up? (I can’t bear to say the word ‘end’.) I’m not certain my present project will be any different. Except, there is a personal difference in the content.

As I sift through memories, or gaps in memories, I am astounded by the moment I am in. By the speed of the moments that have passed. A friend once said to me, and it was in jest, that my life ‘was as interesting as watching the grass grow’. At the time it sounded like I didn’t have enough details in my life. Actually I still don’t have anything on a global scale. I’ve not been an astronaut, a scientist that has discovered the cure for any disease or disorder, or a magnificent concert pianist. Those all sound too grand for me anyway. 

In the past weeks, my belief in what I write had begun to fade. Time and money spent on writing and the tools of the trade. I could spend time and money on golfing, or quilting, or some other activity. Golfing has never interested me for long, quilting I enjoy doing but have never immersed myself in it. I love baking bread but find I tend to eat anything I make. Then I just blossom. In the midst of any activity, words and ideas trip over themselves in my mind. Characters show up uninvited. Scenes form from nothing, while I paint, or bake, or walk. And so I write my story, the one that is ‘as interesting as watching the grass grow’.

“Story is the narrative thread of our experience - 

not literally what happens, 

but what we make out of what happens, 

what we tell each other and what we remember.” 

~ Christina Baldwin,  Storycatcher:

 Making Sense of our Lives through the Power and Practice of Story