Construction sites and country roads

Dear Gentle Readers--

As I re-read this email, I am amazed at how a post about a bad day and an intention to thank a few people turned into a meditation about writing and building. Just keep going.

When I was a kid, I loved to write. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and write. I wrote stories and bad poetry. I was the editor of my high school paper and loved my creative writing classes. However, throughout college and graduate school, my creativity was zapped and drained dry as I was introduced to Academic styles and forced to write within a formula. Perhaps this is why I was considered a bad writer at both levels of school. It makes me think about when Raccoon read one of my student's papers and was amazed at the formula that they had to write in---I had become one of the oppressors and was passing on the oppression I experienced to my students. Anyway, I have reccently re-discovered how much I love to write and how healing writing can be for me. I have also discovered the beauty of written letters. At the end of a bad day, I have discovered again that writing always makes me feel better.

Well, I digress.......GREATLY........:)

Today is one of those days--a day where I yearn for my west coast community and west coast weather. As I wrote to the raccoon, "I don't know how to do 30 degrees." So the yearning for the West Coast combined with the weather did not make for a happy monk, instead I ached for the familiar today and had to be very gentle on myself. Thank God for emails and for the kindness of friends, both old and new.

I didnt want to blog today. I almost wanted to put up a graphic on the blog that said, "monk1975 under construction" and then I realized that this is exactly what is happening. I am under construction and construction sites are messy, they are scary, they are a crucible for the present meeting the past, they follow a plan but what's written on the blueprint may or may not work out, the creation may not come out according to the vision of the architect, it's a dirty place where the dirt gets under your finger nails, it's a place where tears are shed and frustrations arise and it's a place for falling down and getting up again, over and over again, trying to get that blue print right. In the end, the beauty of the building is enhanced by the sweat and tears of those who worked on it. Yet, the beauty often isnt seen until the construction process is over.

My friends, thank you for being with me at the construction site, as I puzzle over the blue prints and figure out where slot A goes and what type of materials to use.

Keep out those hard hats, I don't think we're close to being done.

Much love,
Monk_1975