Deep within my soul there is a flurry of residual emotional activity that takes some time to settle down after a particularly uplifting evening; the build-up of excitement leading up to the day and the “caught up in the moment” preparatory stage propels me to the planned happening. If it all turns out beyond my wildest expectations, those positive thoughts pull the terminating inevitability toward me to hold me and caress me with the blush of accomplishment. I am uplifted and inspired. That is where I sit in the aftermath of it all, and for the moment I reflect until the momentum subsides, calmness and completion then produce an opposite effect in me. It is at this point I tend to feel the slow melting disparage of “it’s over” and it becomes not about reliving the memories, nor relief in it’s done… it is all about the regret of no more – like the grounding crash from an emotional high when bliss is over too soon.
This confusing effect I have experienced all my life although when I was younger the aftermath would have me bawling my eyes out or wailing the unfairness of the world in which I lived – it most often had to do with a party or a guy or an argument with life. The poet in me would emerge and words would bleed onto the page “oh, woe is me…” bemoaning aloneness and cursing the solitary life. As I matured, still alone but comfortable with myself, the let down doesn’t last long and I get over myself to climb back on board my journey onto the next exciting thing.
The author reading last night at Summerwood Second Cup brought friends with a passion for words and commitment together to share their work with one another exhibiting a sense of community. It demonstrated what creativity and caring can do when it meshes together to salute a cause worthy of mention. The writer in me embraces such an event for the sharing creates spark enough to ignite smouldering embers – a writer’s inner light never goes out even though it might not shine as bright sometimes. The memory of this sits in my heart and sings to me about how good it feels and this creative injection is just what the doctor ordered for a suppressed spirit and a depressed mood. It confirms that you need to do what you love and when you work that in with what you can do for others, you have a volatile mix.
My dear writing friends keep doing what you do so well. Dear readers and supporters of the literary arts – keep doing what you do as it gives us an outlet for what we do. In the spirit of International Women’s Day and celebrating “we’ve come a long way” the reading guided us along an emotional roller coaster of happiness and sadness, laughter and tears, but was thought provoking – we have yet so far to go.