Most Sunday afternoons I enjoy a few uninterrupted hours of artist time, sitting in a local coffee shop with a latte and my laptop or at the park across the way writing in a favorite quiet place. After two refreshing hours yesterday I was prepared to come home and write a blog about impermanence and detachment from my creative work...but only out of necessity. Sudden horror popped onto my screen as I was organizing some files from two book projects I'm working on. The message said something about a system crash and then everything locked up. Calmly rebooting my computer, I reopened my SD card files to find all except the one I was trying to delete to be gone, gone, gone. I slumped in my seat, cheeks flushed, tears welling up.
My first thought was rush home to Luke (computer tech hero on more than one occasion of my technical blunder) and wail out the proportion of my loss. Then, deep breath and self pep talk: "Get a hold of yourself, Ruth. Writing is a process. What you lose in content you have gained in personal growth. It's okay. Let go." I sat for a moment and pondered the inward journey and evolution all those vanished words walked me through. I felt them inside me, still transforming me, felt gratitude for the experience in the midst of loss. Then I went home and said, "Help!"
Yes, my hubby saved me again. I'm always amazed at how he can pull lost files out of thin air.
What a wonderful experience to be able to feel and let go. Of course, this was only my writing, not a loved one or limb. I can't say how I would respond in a different circumstance. But little by little we grow through the small experiences to reach a place of equanimity and surrender to the beauty of what is, embracing life as an opportunity to grow through it all.
who are you,little i
13 years ago
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