These Artist's Way morning pages should be called "get your sh#t together pages" because that's what is happening to me. I am clearly getting my sh#t together.
Why doesn't she just write shit for heaven sakes. We know what she means.
Fine. Even though I find it unladylike. Lately, in my morning pages I've been writing down my list of unfinished business. I had more on that list than I had thought. There were a few items that I sheepishly admit have been on that list for a few years. Yet somehow, through the magic of morning pages, I'm not only getting to it, but I'm having the energy to get to it. It's like I want to sort through my papers and call back so-and-so and cancel this and throw out that.
Last night I sorted through papers. I'm not a pack rat. I'm not. Yet, I had journals and papers galore collecting dust. Note to self: Stop saving journals. It annoys your future self who must then sort through them.
This morning, I was leaving my apartment with a big bag of papers that I had sorted through. Of course the bag handles snapped off and of course my papers snowed down the stairs. And of course I yelped, which of course caused my neighbor to come out to make sure I wasn't beneath the avalanche. (She's a sweet old lady. She was wearing one of those housecoats that goes all the way to the ground and zips up all the way to the chin. Nary a sliver of skin exposed to the cool Santa Monica air.)
After I gathered my papers and tossed them into the bin, I felt lighter. Relieved of the duty of having to hold onto elements of a life that is no longer who I am. What I am is a getting-my-shit-together super star. And I owe it all to my morning pages.
Shit. That's just great. I'm glad for you.
Thanks. It felt good to clear out my apartment.
No. I'm glad that you're swearing in your blog.