Image via WikipediaI have to write myself into right thinking.
I am in Virginia, at the end of a wonderful family vacation - experiencing living history at Colonial Williamsburg and making history at Busch Gardens on the thrill rides, yet here I am riding an emotional rollercoaster.
The blank page beckons. You have nothing to write. Pack your bags.
My demons are at the door, gnashing their teeth. Their names are Worry and Anxiety, and they are looking for an opening in which to pounce on me and wrestle.
My oldest son took me on a rollercoaster called Apollo's Chariot twice this week. The first time, it was dark, and the rest of my family advised me to leave my glasses with them while Cooper took me by the hand and led me through the maze of the line, excitement and hilarity building. Was I really going to do this?
(We had ridden a mediocre wooden one last year at Six Flags and I had sworn off rollercoasters, despite the strong desire to connect with Cooper in this way. I wanted to be a "ride warrior" and follow him into unknown lands, where his father, brother and sister couldn't, I could, yes? But the gifts the ride gave me were unacceptable: whip lash and abject terror. Alas, Coop was on his own for the other rides - thrill-ing in anonymity.)
My blindness leads to the surreality of the experience - there are no sharp images to focus on, and I have no balance. We strap onto a contraption with at least ten rows of four seats each, safely secured by a fat, bright red seat belt. Whoosh! We're off, and I can't see what's coming. I have no idea what to expect, so I just go with it and scream as we drop, roll sideways and upside-down.
When it's over, I am laughing with a zeal I find confounding until I put my glasses back on again, everything coming back to reality. No whip lash, no abject terror. But just because I enjoyed it in the moment doesn't mean that I have to do it again, does it?
I have to face the rollercoaster of the blank page again, yes I do. Because the fear of the blank page is nothing like the fear I feel when I'm not writing. And when I'm feeling like a rollercoaster, I must use the blank page to help me figure out what's going on, to bring the fears to light, to make friends with the demons. Worry and Anxiety aren't going away, but I know how to deal with them.
So I'm writing. Writing helps me to get the kinks out, bring those demons to consciousness. My Higher Self can write and tell me to relax my jaw, to trust in the process. I've taken all of the actions I can at the moment, and I need to say a little prayer and let go, just as I did on the rollercoaster.