This week I actually have something to confess – I let my writing practice slip for the last two days. I simply had so much to do at work that I couldn’t convince myself that my writing was more important – that’s so sad and so not true – but it’s what has happened. And I can feel it in my mood and in my writing.

Yesterday, I had a meeting at work. It was one of those meetings where people say something so that they can exert control over the conversation, and then when someone (namely me) pushes them for follow-through on what they say they back off and spin themselves and the rest of the people in the meeting into a frenzy of confusion and double-talk. Plus, because I was the person who pushed for follow-through, I was the one made to feel stupid and ignorant. Grrr. . .

Sadly, this happens in a lot of meetings where I work (maybe where everyone works?), and this year because of my writing practice I have been able to stay centered and calm, knowing that these meetings are “not my real work,” to quote Sven Birkerts. But yesterday, because my practice was out of balance, I was out of balance, and while I kept it together in the meeting itself, I had a good cry afterwards . . .

So now I sit here at 6:06 am knowing that I won’t do my practice again today. This time, however, I feel okay about that because my friend Mina is visiting and spending time with people always helps me keep my priorities straight.

Tomorrow, though, I’m back to it . . . I need this writing to keep me still and focused in myself. I need it.

The Final Harvest by D L EnnisThe Final Harvest by D L Ennis