Tag: Light

{Re}Focus | Inhale {The Good Sh!#} Exhale {The BullSh!#}

#DeadlineDiaries, Blood & Ink, Kim Koning, Life, On My Desk, The Tattooist

  

 
I opened up my WordPress app today and this is what my stats told me:

It’s been 5 months since … Last Post

So let me begin by stating the obvious…It has been a while a long while a bloody long while since I posted on here. WordPress is kind enough to inform me that it has been 5 months since my last post. So why the deep buzzing of mosquitoes and no posts you may wonder? I could tell you I have been: 

swamped ~ overwhelmed ~ stressed ~ burnt-out ~ burnt-through ~ exhausted ~ sick&tired.

All of the above would be true and accurate. But mostly I have been so quiet because I have just been learning to  

 

Stop holding my breath 

                and just breathe…

 This year has been a tough one filled with more darkness than light, in more ways than one. But the important thing, even in an Annus Horribilis, to remember is that there have been slivers of light. The last 5 months I have been searching for and storing those slivers of light. That is why I have been quiet online. I needed to take a breath and then to breathe out again. Breath by breath. 

It got too dark for me to write. So instead of forcing it, I did the unthinkable, and just stopped. I realised I needed to refocus on myself, get my emotional + physical health on a better footing. I needed time to just learn to breathe again because there have been moments this year when it took all my energy reserves just to breathe.

I could go into a few logical reasons as to why I didn’t want to write but that wouldn’t be quite accurate. The worst thing was that I DID want to write. But my well was empty. A perfect storm of events + emotions + health (lack of) = Empty, dried up well of creativity/inspiration/focus. Things, past things, that I had boxed up and stored in a dank, forgotten basement in my memory crept up out of the darkness and demanded to be dealt with. Where I thought I had been brilliant at compartmentalising I was proven wrong. Because nothing had been thrown away instead the boxes had just been hidden. 

  But I’m still upright. Bruised, battered and scarred from the Past-become-Present and the Present, kneeling but upright. Ironically enough it has been this WIP – Tattooist – that has forced me to deal with those memory-monsters hidden away in boxes in that dank, forgotten basement. I was feeling claustrophobic because it was in the writing and rewriting of Tattooist that these memory-monsters started creeping out. Tattooist was their siren call. So I did the only thing I could do, I boxed up Tattooist and all the poisonous emotions and I faced down my hungry memory-monsters. I faced them and although they put in more than a good fight, I conquered my inner demons and released those hungry memory-monsters. 

That is what I have been doing for most of this year and all of the last five months. I haven’t been writing but I have been healing. In the next few weeks I’ll share a little on how and where I found the small slivers of light that took me from a dark place up into a place of faint, but growing, light.

Today there are exactly 6 weeks left of 2015. 42 Days. I won’t lie by saying I’ll miss 2015. I won’t. But today, with just 6 weeks left of 2015, I embrace my personal Annus Horribilis and I thank it. I embrace the hungry memory-monsters and I thank them. I embrace my stalled WIP and thank it. I embrace my creative claustrophobia and I thank it. I embrace the dark nights of my soul and thank them. I look at the reflection in my mirror and I see a woman who is stronger for the struggles and I thank her. I embrace and thank the girl that stands in this woman’s shadow, a reminder of what hope, joy, optimism and love look like. 

So today there are 6 weeks left of 2015. 42 Days.  

 I have been holding my breath but now I’m breathing again. I’ve exhaled the darkness and I’m inhaling the light. It is time to dust off the creative cobwebs of that dank basement and step into an open space. A space where there is light and where I can breathe without fear, without panic, without doubt, free from the shackles of the past. A space where I can pour the elixir of story back into my soul. Tattooist calls me again but now I am ready to accept the call not as sirens calling me near treacherous, dangerous rocks but as a lighthouse guiding me back home to the written page. 

So today there are exactly 6 weeks left of 2015. 42 Days. 42 Fresh starts. 42 Days to start over…

What are you going to do with your one precious life these 42 days?

Ordinary Heroes | Extraordinary Times

Fellow Writers' Blog Hop, Ink Slaying, Kim Koning, Notes on Wrestling The Muse, Writing
Remembering 9/11: Dedicated
Image by IslesPunkFan via Flickr
Monthly Fellow Writers' Blog Hop ~ Hosted by the Gladiator's Pen

Topic for Tuesday September 13th:  Remembrance 9/11  

This is the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on America.. What effect did this have on your writing, if any. Was it short term effect or  from that point on. Or write story, poem, song, or a remembrance or dedication to those who were lost and the heroes that rose to the occasion during this frightening time in our country and seen around the world. 

~~~~

 

Ten years ago, this week, an extraordinary tragedy devastated the city of New York but the horror and shock ricocheted around the world. It was one of those events in history that we can all remember exactly where we were and what we were doing. Over the last few days I have been watching footage and documentaries on the fall of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre and the events that happened just prior and just after this horrific event. That day changed countless lives in so many ways. It scarred the skyline of Manhattan, New York and it broke the heart of the modern world. This was not only a nation that was affected but all around the world the emotions so raw and so vulnerable echoed in all our hearts.

 

On the day it happened I was millions of miles away but in my heart I was right there as shocked and horrified as anyone.But for me, what stands out in my mind of that day is not just the devastation but the small mercies and bravery of humanity. I remember the ordinary heroes that stepped up in the hour. I remember the countless heroes that walked into the heart of devastation to save who they could. As I watched the events unfolding I wondered what would happen if I were thrust or someone I love were thrust into that situation. How would I react? How would they react? I was also rocked again by the realization that tragedies, large and small, happen every day and that we cannot stop them. But how we react and how we act in the face of these tragedies is the living legacy?

 

Did this affect my writing and how?

 

Yes, it did. It made me realise that even very ordinary people one would not notice can become extraordinary heroes. I write a lot of poetry when I am faced with dark emotions and those days just after 9/11 I was assailed by images that were forever imprinted upon my mind and emotions that were imprinted on my heart. But when the human heart encounters tragedy, we have to find something to hope for and to live for. I also realised that words are powerful, whether spoken or written. 9/11 caused me to start sharing my poetry with others. I have always written poetry as this is the way I handle events in my own life. Call it my personal therapy. But before then I had not shown anyone my poetry. I had written it down and hidden it away. But 9/11 made me realise that we are all human beings. We all experience tragedy in some form in our lives. We all must fight darkness with light. This is the human condition. But human beings need solidarity with each other. We are social creatures who need compassion, empathy and mercy. I realized that although my own dark moments may be personal to me, the emotions evoked and felt are universal. When I saw and heard about the ordinary heroes making a difference after those events, I wanted to be able to reach out in solidarity. My method of communication is words. I needed to use my words to convey emotions. So from that day I vowed that I would share what I had written because people need to know we all know both darkness and light in our lives. But it is the light that gives us hope and faith to continue. Emotional vulnerability is not a weakness but a strength because that is how we learn empathy.This is one of the poems I wrote soon after 9/11.

 

Falling Free © Kim Koning 2001

I used to be afraid of just one thing

Fear of falling from great heights imprisoned me

I imagined stumbling then falling, never waking

I used to dream about falling and breaking on rocks far below

I was always taught the only way to overcome fear is to face it,

I needed to look deep within and find that courage

Our family had looked at death so many times, 

How could a mountain overcome my faith in courage

Climbing mountains I found my place of peace

But looking down a mountain made my hands slick with sweat

How ironic that the same place that offers you peace

Can freeze your soul in a prison with gates of fear?

Then one summer’s day with the sun burning down on my mountain

I took the first step to facing my greatest fear

My skin was clammy with cold, rivulets of fear dripped down my back

I watched as crazy people threw themselves off the mountain

Suddenly I found myself sitting on the hot rock

Someone was tying straps and chains around me

I had sudden visions of being bound and chained

Thrown from my place of peace, how could I fall free, chained?

Then a voice broke through my reverie and told me to step out

I opened my eyes and looked down, nothing but empty blue sky was before me

My legs were swinging and there was nothing but cool air there

My vision spun and I thought I was going to faint, I stepped off onto a ledge

There is a time in life when you face mortality and know you are not strong enough

As you stand suspended, a reflection of weakness stares back at you

Covered in shame, you have two choices staring back at you

Jump or step back and accept your weakness

I was in that time standing on that mountain ledge

Looking up, I found myself surrounded by jagged peaks, windswept grass

I saw an eagle far above me flying free and I reached my place of peace,

With my heart in my throat, I stepped off the ledge into blue sky

I felt wild and free, I was falling free, This might be the end, This may begin

I learnt the truest lesson that day, fear is but a ledge you can choose to

step off

 

May we never forget 9/11 nor the events after that day. My heart goes out to the countless people affected by the tragedy of that day. May the Grace of God cover the scars that will always remain with those affected and those that witnessed. May we never forget the ordinary heroes that acted when they needed to without thought for their own safety. May the courage of New York’s ordinary heroes be an extraordinary inspiration to us all.

 

Live your life from your heart. Share from your heart. And your story will touch and heal people’s souls. – Melody Beatie

 

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