..On writing

As the days creep closer to the workshop I am giving on Saturday and I review the material, I realize how much I miss the soft winds of inspiration I once held in my head and my hand.

It's been too many years since I took the time and gave myself the pleasure of the leisurely Write.

I thought after leaving academics I'd sprite to the finish line and write a novel. I started one the sabbatical year of 1992. I nearly finished it in 1997 when my computer crashed, the disks nearly deteriorated and the upgrades of both hardware and software appeared to conspire against me.

When I retired from public health, again it was my goal to pick up the rapier. I didn't! Instead I traveled on and off for two years as if I were mimicking a vagabond or taking the path of Gurdjieff's Meetings with Remarkable Men. Neither a vagabond nor an earnest philosopher, I find myself penning non-fiction for a faceless audience and realizing it is not a substitute for personal writing.

Will the tide turn after the workshop and as I settle into the wintry months that have already begun here beside the Delaware?

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