Beginning again is an odd thing. It's a little like being wrong. Oh, it's so hard for me to admit when I'm wrong. And it's so hard to even admit I don't want to be stopped anymore, I want to begin again.
I'm rusty, be gentle. I'm vague. I'm talking about blogging. I'm talking about writing in general.
This morning, when I googled "beginning again," hoping to find a cool quote about writing after not-writing, and how to take one little step, write a word or a sentence, fool myself into it (all those things I tell my stopped and blocked students), the first thing that came up was a grief support group called Beginning Again. How appropriate. Because what is significant grief and loss but a stoppage? And what is recovery but beginning again?
Life is going along at velocity doodeedoodeedoo and then bang, something happens, and life is stopped. Not just a little stopped. STOPPED. The earth doesn't stop turning, but you do.
And then, there's our friend inertia:
- A body at rest will remain at rest until a force acts upon it.
- A body in motion will not change its velocity until a net force acts upon it.
As for me: this body was in motion; oh boy, was it. I spent forever in motion. I rarely stopped. Then a net force acted upon my life. And I stopped. Was stopped. Have been stopped.
These days, I wake up in the morning stopped. I feel hung over, no matter whether I've had wine or not the night before. It takes hours to move into action. I sit at the computer. Drink tea. Catch up on email -- a bit. Surf the web. Read the paper. Eat something, then drink more tea. Creaky. Rusty. Aging. My knees hurt, my brain moves slowly.
Yeah yeah yeah, I've been working full time, and getting used to my new life, and getting stuff done, there are reasons. And stoppage can be good. Getting off of auto-pilot, reassessing, looking around. I'd say stopping has been good for me.
But this writing body has been stopped for so, so long, and part of me longs for my old velocity. So I'm trying to find a net force -- a shove -- to act upon the body at rest, to find something that can move it back into motion.
(Even though I'm still not sure that is what I really want.)