Skip to main content

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.



Labels:

Comments

Geo. said…
Delightful post. Having raised 4 lovely outspoken critics, I might even say I got a kick out of it.
20 May 2012 at 23:08
Jessica L. Celaya said…
The story of the fairy tale and comparing it to writing is exactly true. I just want my readers to see what I see. Thanks for sharing.
21 May 2012 at 10:20
Fran@Broken Cookies Don't Count said…
Fun! Karate? Sounds like it or just verbal sparring? I love the phrase "ladies in the loo queue." How poetic!
21 May 2012 at 12:23
Lynn Proctor said…
i could use some of that fairy stuff on my eyes, right about now--great!
21 May 2012 at 14:26
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you all :-)
Verbal or physical sparring, it is all good fun! And everyone can use a little fairy ointment now and again :-)
22 May 2012 at 20:19
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
2 comments
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
26 comments
Read more

A Happy Kind Of Idiot

I am watching hazel leaves shimmy in a breeze, they are keeping time with the buzz of nettle stings that run from my fingertips to my elbows. It feels like I'm wearing gloves made of needles; why didn't I just wear gloves to clear the nettles from the raspberry hedge? But I like to know the plants, how they grow, how they smell, how they stain and sting, what bugs shelter in their leaves, what grubs and gastropods nestle at the roots. How the roots sneak under weedblocks, moon-pale, and over open ground where they are purplish, bullish.  I like the work to affect, I like interactive life.  It has a little pain and a lot of interest.  Not all the nettles are gone, of course, some must be left to house caterpillars, and they are a healthy vegetable for people too. Today’s crop is for compost though, to feed the soil, the miracle stuff from which this abundance grows. How could I not wish to be close to that?  At home I have a shower, scrub my sore hands- and still I sm...
Post a Comment
Read more