I have been emptied-out and I am dealing with a copious void. This wasn’t without anticipation. However, no matter how prepared a person may be for the reappearance of the void, it still shocks the senses with its power to utterly zap the life, the excitement, and the energy right out of the soul. I experienced a major life shift, at this time two years ago, when two of my dear friends committed suicide within days of each other; completely unrelated, the events of their passing felt like being thrown into space without oxygen. Unable to write for a year, or more, I am now in the throws of some incredibly inspiring moments and I am feeling the catharsis of being able to write once again. The space in which my friends occupied will never be filled again and it is not without some morbid reflection that I look back with those mother-f***ing “If Onlys” and then I have to put those thoughts away with every bit of will that I possess.
The power is in the present moment. Life does not exist in the past and the events of that time are to remain within the construct of that never to be re-lived fragment. So, what to do next? I will put on my big-girl-panties and continue pressing one key after another until my fevered brain reaches a crescendo and eventually capitulates its written catharsis. In other words, I am still working on Part Two of the “mysterious encounter” and have some ideas brewing and I will not disappoint. I have been dealing with a sexual famine at this time and it has not been easy. I have had to swallow that reality (metaphorically) with some brooding and short tempered outbursts but I have broken my fast and that is the important part.