“We don’t say I can’t here; only I don’t want to.” It’s really not that high…. And the trapeze isn’t as far away as it looks, but when you are standing on the top of a 5 inch round log, with nothing to hold onto and only air surrounding you it seems like the most impossible obstacle in the world. Obstacles are funny that way; I suppose if they didn’t seem impossible they would just be called play-structures. The ropes course at Squaw Valley challenges you to face the thoughts that tell you something is impossible (although it doesn’t really do anything about the inner voice shouting‘this is crazy’). Writers face plenty of these obstacles as they go through their journey. Some of them are entirely internal (you’ll never be able to finish it), and others are voiced openly and with such confidence you assume they must be true (do you know how impossible it is to get an agent). And the funny thing is, I have found it doesn’t really help when eventually you do get published (because, believe me, if you stick to it, you will). Then the inner voice says something like, (no one will like your work) and the external ones talk all about the impossibility of making a living at writing. Listening to these voices it is easy to forget that the reason I started writing was because I loved it. Rather than the sheer joy of writing, the obstacles begin to look like the purpose for my work. At the top of a 100 foot tall pine tree I was so intent on ringing the bell that proved I had reached the top that I completely forgot to look at the beautiful scenery surrounding me. And ultimately that is the biggest problem with using the word can’t; I become so focused on overcoming the obstacle that I forget I am actually there because I want to be.
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The sound of grunting and balls flying.
Tennis! I’m talking tennis at the French Open here guys so get your mind out of the gutter (or the erotic novel you are reading.) It amazes me how loud tennis players are now days while at the same time the judges still ask viewers to be silent… as if the players could even hear the clapping over their own loud cries. Two years ago I was fortunate enough to be at Roland Garros, the stadium for the French Open. Of course our first attempt was rained out; a devastating event when you have travelled all the way from the U.S. to attend. (To be fair, the Parisian cafes may have factored into our destination decision a bit as well.) Ironically enough, while sitting outside one of the stadiums waiting to see if the rain delay would ever end, my husband and I had the great fortune to make a wonderful new French friend. A woman who was such a fan she went to almost all of the tennis matches around the world. It turned out to a be a highlight of our trip, sitting there on that wall, watching torrents of rain fall, and learning all about each other. Sometimes, especially now as the school year is ending, it feels like the whole world speeds up; so that there is never time to simply chat with a friend or stranger. It is only when life throws me a curve ball; stuck in line at a store, waiting for an overdue appointment, or during a rain delay, that I am forced to take a breath and be present to the space and people around me. Sometimes that looks like attention to detail (maybe an overhear or two:>). But sometimes it leads to conversation…. And from there, to friendship. I think this is one reason I love to travel on my own. Stuck in an airport with no company but myself, fellow travelers frequently reach out and begin to talk. I am sure my husband would say his favorite part of that trip to Paris would be when we returned to Roland Garros a couple of days later and got to see some phenomenal tennis; grunts and all. For me, though, the highlight will always be that remarkable afternoon spent talking with a new friend. |
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June 2020
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