Destiny Might Have A Point
Last night: set up laptop, lost myself in editing.
This book is taking on a life force, I think, I can feel the energy of it. I get a literal buzz from it. This story I am working on is from a real biography- turning life into art that improves life is an energetic passion.
This morning: is a 5am start: we don’t get back home till past 7pm, 166 miles and a bunch of fights later. Welsh Championships today. Three of our students, out of the four competing, are displaying trophies. I have jolly things to say to them; and the people who are straying too close to the edge of the ring, to all of the competitors, fellow officials, paramedics, organisers, sports centre staff, ladies in the loo queue and random strangers in the car park. My verbal sparring, thanks to years of mindful training, is flyweight, light contact.
When I first tied my white belt, hilarious Girl said; ‘Mum’s learning to kill people with her hands and feet, you know, in case she loses her voice.’
In the days when I used to read to Girl at night, there was, in a folktale compilation, a story of a midwife called upon to deliver a fairy child. The reluctant birthing assistant is handed a special ointment to dab on her eyelids, so she can see the fairy world, which exists here in our world, invisible to un-enchanted human sight. I think of this sometimes when I write, because I want to dab my words over your eyes, to make you see magic, to make you marvel and appreciate.
Had I mastered this at a younger age, that kind of power, indubitably, would have gone to my head.