First blog ever, first day of vacation. Where's my book? I've always thought that everyone has a book inside of him or her that is patiently waiting to be written. My life is beginning to become quieter and so I have posed the question - where's my book? In response I have just come up with an excuse: I don't have anything to write about that anyone would want to purchase and read. I can't write with the same finesse as my favorite authors. And so I am simply going to begin to write. For myself. If it turns out that someone else reads this, Hello! If ten people see this and one person likes it, then I'll have an audience of ten and an adoring audience of one. It's a beginning.
During this past week I purchased two books that curiously had similar beginnings. Each author began her first page writing about a near death experience that changed her life. One of my absolute favorite authors, Carolyn Myss once made fun of people who had talked about their near death experiences as conversation starters with people they didn't know. Then and again this week it hit me that I have never had a remarkable near death experience and so I cannot gloriously and impressively begin my book recounting it. I have never been whisked into the heavens, enveloped by the light, taken through the tunnel, met deceased friends and relatives, been shown my unconscious body lying below, felt the unconditional heavenly love or been given special powers to incorporate back into my life after making the choice to live after all. I don't even know if I have flown around at night during dreamtime in a cool astral body. I'm the gal who wakes up in the middle of the night and sleepwalks her body around the house and says things like, "Help me to find the kittens; they are suffocating" or "Where's my mom?" or "Who are you? Prove it; what's your middle name." I have been clunkily earthbound. I can tell some hilarious sleep-walking stories. But they are not going to make up a book.
The closest I got to a near death experience was while driving down the road just behind my neighborhood. Behind the wheel of my big blue Aerostar momvan, I was gunning ahead at 45 in a 35mph zone and was not paying attention. All of a sudden I noticed that the momvan in front of me was stopped to make a left turn. I saw the long-haired head of the driver and two small heads in the back seat and realized that I was going to crash full speed into the back of them. There was no time to think, only to whisper, "Help me, please," and fully stomp on the brakes. I heard my tires screaming and felt the back of my van fishtail to the right towards the ditch that certainly held a submerged alligator. All of a sudden my van stopped dead. My front bumper was two inches from the back seat passenger door of the van into which I did not crash. I looked into a set of a child's startled eyes and then the van turned left and kept going. No one was coming behind me. It happened so quickly that my body did not even release a surge of adrenalin. I straightened out the tires and started driving. It had been a miracle. I first said a simple thank you and then reviewed everything in my head. It was simply a miracle that my van had stopped so dramatically and so whisper close to the other. And then I spent the next five minutes saying an elaborate thank you accompanied by amazed squeals of delight.
See? I really don't have much to write about.
To conclude, I have twenty-seven days of vacation, nine of which are going to be spent far away from a computer. I woke up early today, walked, breathed in and out striving to connect each and every breath, and took a bike ride. I'm going to make every day count for something creative. This blog is going to be a part of my creativity. If there is an audience, then I am surprised and happy to meet you. Be patient. I think I really do have something to say. It's coming. But it's probably not a book.