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 |   Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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Enga mellom Fjella  Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel"   Reader's Choice of Poems: "Sentinel" "Where grows the compost heap" "Between us" "Speak soft my name" "Willowsong" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" :"Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Doing and don'ting. A scene in 2nd person." "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." "Holy day. Autumn in November. A mole." "Il pleure (poem). We R puddle-luscious, aujourd'hui." FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
| For everything there is a season. Planting, weeding, harvesting. Festivities, taxes. For some there's a weekly rhythm. Some even take a day off! I was forced into a rhythm when I was in school, when I worked, when I was homeless. Now I have no reasons to maintain a schedule. These days, I'm running out of rhythm. When I travelled (note past tense) I had to be aware of other peoples schedules and rhythms. Trains, planes and buses left whether I was ready or not. I missed a few. It can get costly. Even when it wasn't quite my fault. The plane missing connections in Narita comes to mind. Accommodations also have rhythms. Thinking of staying 3 days or 4? Better to book 4. There's no guarantee that a bed will be available for an extra day the day before. O Ljubljana! And staying with others means accommodation to their daily routines.  Even in hostels one must consider the habits of others. Lights on; lights off; early departures; late arrivals. Which belatedly gets to my point. The Season of Covid has erased my rhythms. I tried to establish some sense of what day it was. Not quite successful. Thursday was my day to meet friends at The Break Espresso. Did I go today? Nope. Here at WDC we see how fellow writers have been affected. Elle - on hiatus is taking a break. blimprider tried to but is doing a reset instead. Me? I've been burnt out for quite awhile. Random thoughts and jottings? Sure. Focus for a short poem or prose? Not a problem. Anything more? So... I desperately need a break. I wrote down my reactions to some news that unsettled me so that I could write a blog in response. I just can't seem to focus enough to write anything coherent. So do I take a break? And for how long? Normally, I'd be traveling and that provides a break with new thoughts and experiences to write about. And yes, I still dream-travel and prepare; but ... what about WDC? It's so hard to get restarted once one stops. I kept a daily journal for almost 17 years. Over 50,000 pages. I have had nothing to write about this past year. I mean to say that 'sitting in my room' does not make for riveting reading. I've almost disappeared from bookfaze. Very few have noticed... yet. I could disappear from here with barely a rumble. InRealLife I might be missed (emphasis on might). I disappeared from certain social circles years ago. To disappear or not. That is the question. Taking a break may be a good option. ~435 words posted in "Blogville " |
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