First of all, I just LOVE you
all for your wonderful, ingenious, and thoughtful musings last week on the
blog. I mean, I always love the stuff you say, but there’s something truly
special (as I discovered) about being sequestered in an airport for 3 hours
with nothing to do but troll the ‘net and realizing (as I did) that there’s a
week’s worth of loveliness on the blog that could entertain me, and then
immersing myself in this—our—world and reading every post again and then every
comment. Here’s what amazed me: how this community of relatively like-minded
friends could also have such surprising and disparate views and ideals and
dreams of the world. I mean, I know this is true in fact, but to read the
details of individual experience as they play out, one commenter at a time, is
really refreshing.
Okay, and here’s the other
thing that really amazed me—and this thought might even be worthy of a whole
post on its own—is the responses in the 5 Crazy Things posts. Did you notice
that so many of you had alternate lives choices that ran the gamut from introvert
to extrovert? It seemed to me as if we were all channeling that yin/yang thing
within us that wants (and maybe needs) to represent both sides of reality: the
quiet, cerebral thinker (or horse whisperer or writer or scientist) to the
flamboyant noisemaker (or actor, or actor’s friend (that one made me laugh), or
stand-up comic, or Nathan Fillion girlfriend). I think for all of us, one type
or the other probably predominates, but still most of us could at least
imagine—and maybe covet—an “opposite” kind of life.
And last and possibly not
least, I come to the title of this post. “Going To Seed” is a play on a recent
theme in many discussions I’ve been having lately about “Going Fallow”. Have we
talked about this here before—I can’t remember??? A number of people in my life
have brought up the notion that for each of us, a period of fallow (as in the
farmer’s field “fallow” where they let their fields run wild—without
purpose—for a few years to regenerate nutrients in the soil) is extremely
important and invaluable. This time of not thinking, not creating, not
planning, conceiving, or seeing-through, allows us to come back to our work
later with much more power.
Well, as you know, I was gone
for my holiday for the last week and this, if there ever was perfect time, was the perfect time for going
fallow. After all, I had spotty internet and Deb had offered to be here full
time on the blog. I couldn’t really Facebook or email, certainly couldn’t
phone. I had a real chance to fully wallow in the fallow. But I was also really
keyed up to do some revisions on a novel I’m working on (it’s a psychological
thriller that I need to get just right before I send it out in the hopes of
landing an agent and/or publisher).
But if I’m revising a novel,
I’m not really going fallow, am I? And hence, we come to my play on analogies:
I decided in the end to “go to seed”. I would let everything else go and I would
see if the peaceful environment and lack of responsibility would provide me a
clean slate to (let the buds that have blossomed for me keep growing and) do
those final tweaks. I mean, no meals to cook, no groceries to buy, no house to
clean, no laundry to do, no phones to answer, no auditions to prepare, no
computer to cater to. Phil was busy most mornings till early afternoon
(pursuing his passion: diving):
... and I could do as I would with my time:
So
here’s what happened. I did grow my flowers, but I did it in as gentle and free
way as I could. I’d eat a very early breakfast with Phil and then go to a quiet
pavilion in the beautiful gardens with a cup of tea and my paper manuscript. I
would read and tweak until I got too hot and then I’d swim and think. As I
bobbed in the water, soaking up the sun, amazing insights would come to me. I’d
let them “go to seed” and waft around me. I would admire or dismiss them.
Later, I would incorporate some of these discoveries into my story. It wasn’t
work at all. Believe it or not.
So, yup, I think that’s it
for my ramblings (and hopeless analogies). Hope you can make some sense of
this—holiday brain is sure to be playing a part in what I have (or don’t have)
to say!
