(Photo by M. Bencivengo, Reflection of Clouds on Backyard Lagoon)
We have heard over and over that last year was a long, hard year. There is so much I could say about it, but I do not feel like doing so at this time. I am just so glad it is over.
I want to resume this blog, get back to where I was before I took my hiatus. Too, I recently began a dream blog, another separate blog. This one is mostly for all my non-Jungian thoughts and activities. The dream blog is rather Jungian in its psychology or outlook--psychological outlook. Both blogs are also what I can call "in-looks."
The nice May weather is here and thus I "come to life" again, resurrecting along with the plant life here. I hope my writing will resurrect as well. I still have not been typing my manuscripts much at all due to tech difficulties but I now vow to get some help. I do want to self-publish someday. When I was young I used to think it woudl be important to have my books published with small press or large press companies. Poems at small press and novels at the big publishing companies, I thought. But I never got around to embarking upon that ship. My ship full of dreams sailed off and wandered at sea while I stayed on the shore doing other things that were necessitated. By the end of most each day, every week, each month, each year, each decade, I was tired. In my 20s I said I had my 30s to publish, in my 30s I said I had my 40s to publish, and in my 40s I said I still had my 50s in which to get published, and so on and so forth. Now I am 60 and wanting to finally fulfill these hopes and dreams. I think now I will finally do it because now I know I have to as I age, as I do not want to take regrets with me to the grave. That is a very grave matter. I do not think I am being too sad or dreary--I regard it as just being realistic and now quite determined in my hopes for achievement.
Meanwhile in all those years I did not try to publish things barely at all (I did send out a few poems here and there that did get published), in all those years I was mostly on hiatus from my own writing goals, I did still write here and there also besides just in my journal. Very little of my journal is the kind of stuff that people scramble to publish after a writer dies--I did not usually write "nicely" in them, not much in literary style. I did, however, record dreams in my journals. And meanwhile in all those years in which I was on hiatus from my writing goals I did live a full life. I was employed as a teacher and newspaper writer, I was a mother, and I was a wife trying to keep up with the hectic lifestyle of my musician husband and also keep up with the house.
I read once somewhere that someone found a pioneer woman's diary and each entry each day was merely a list of all the household chores she did such as,
Made beds
Cooked breakfast
Packed school lunches
Saw children off to school
Did dishes
Swept floors
Did gardening
Cooked lunch
Did dishes
Did laundry
Hung clothes to dry
Put clothes away
Cleaned vegetables
Cooked dinner
Did dishes.
But, no matter what, there is always time for bedtime stories whether reading to the children in your life (including grandchildren) or to oneself.
Another Year, Another Summer,
Mary Ann
mbenci.writes@gmail.com
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