So, I signed up for The Southeast Review Writing Regimen and it is spectacular. I really love having the writing inspirations e-mailed to me each morning. When I wake up it is the first thing I read and it gets me in the mood to create. The first RIFF word they gave us was SPRING on March 1st. Below is my stream of consciousness from SPRING. I think it led to some really interesting insights and definitely towards a deeper part of me at the end. I hope you enjoy. Beware, though, it is completely unedited.
Rebirth, reborn, warm breezes, green leaves, beauty, non-depressed. Springing forward in time and in life. A time for starting new things and letting go of old clingy things. Spring cleaning. Spring to life. I need spring it is one of my favorite times of year. A time for carelessness and diving in thoughtlessly where fall is a time for contemplation. Winter is the death of the mind and the soul. Hibernation. Spring out of hibernation. Spring forth with a new body, a new outlook on life, a new life. Revamp the old and tired. Becoming new, a new person, a new life, a new entity. Starting over, letting go, airing out, the house, opening the windows, letting the sun into the shadows of winter, chasing out the winter death and dust. Parks, glistening green grass, the sound of squeaking swings. Love, renewal, a second chance. Children playing, released from the winter trap. Abundance of energy and sunshine, warmth, Vitamin D, tanned skin, happiness, freedom from winter chains. More public, less recluse. Short sleeves and shorts, breezes against my legs, into my shirt, into my shorts. Airing out the old and decrepit. Rain, cleansing, flowers blooming, windshield wipers, cleaning salt off of the car. Clear blue skies with warmth to match. Dreams of second chances. Dreams of the unimaginable and unattainable in winter. Bringing forth new life, new chances, freedom. A time for letting go of limitations, of breaking free from degrading thoughts. A chance to air out the ego. A chance to start over once again, to repair all the damage that has been done in winter. Bring forth newness, new chances, new life, new everything. Air out the old musty home breeding germs, sickness, reclusiveness. Step out in to the sun-filled world with warmth, breeze, the smell of new flowers, the rainbows of colors, the cleansing rain, the brilliant green grass, bare feet, reading in the lawn chair, life renewed, hope renewed, old dregs of winter packed away. Nakedness, vulnerability, putting myself out there. Connections with others, connections with new life, connections with renewal of life. Smell of impending rain, softness of grass, smell of freshly cut grass, grittiness of feet on driveway, multi-colored umbrellas, smelling roses and fresh cut flowers, smelling the gardens, the animals, the cat urine. Shedding of skin, a renewal. The smell of all that is fresh and new. Sundried laundry. Rainfilled clouds. Fresh dew in the early dawn. The smell of new life being formed, forced into existence. The smell of fruits, fruity smells. The need for supple, soft, skin, to slough off the harsh winter dried flaky skin. An unveiling of the face to the brilliance of the sun and the cleansing rain and the warm inviting breeze. The sounds of birds, returned, reinvigorated, singing love songs to my ears. Waking me at dawn to catch the sun rising over the horizon in brilliant oranges, pinks, blues, yellows, purples, a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, smells, intertwine to create Spring. The spring, the spring in my step, the spring in my mind, the spring in my hope, the spring necessary to move forward and let go of the darkness I came from. Rebirth, renewal, re: new all.
I spend my life asking: what can I cut out, what can I cut out? What would make me simpler, less of the complicated person that I am. What memories can I cut out, what experiences cut from the pages of my life would make my mind sleep at night, would make my life bearable. Could I cut out a new silhouette, a new me, with a new body, new mind, new heart? Maybe I can cut and reshape who I already am, removing all the excesses – the food, the drink, the sex, the cigarettes, all those things that made life bearable. Without all the memories, would I need all the excesses? Ah, to cut, to make new, to remove the dead weight from my thinning bones. Ah, to cut away the pain and the shame to bring forth a new, revised version of the me I loathe. Ah, to cut away at the loathsomeness of my self would be to free the imprisoned child that lurks beneath the surface waiting patiently for the permission to speak, the child who has never spoken, the child who was silenced before she could ever speak. Ah, that kind of freedom. What would I cut away to find that kind of freedom. What can I cut out, what can I cut out to bring about that kind of freedom?