A Writer is Reinspired

Today was a good day and a day filled with inspiration and a sense of purpose. I realized after a great chat with a former fellow (now an Anthro prof. here in Copenhagen) that to fill my day with reading and writing is indeed part of my purpose. It's now my goal to narrate the stories of a select group of the women I meet over the next year, and not just their sports stories, but their life stories (which will necessarily intertwine with the hockey stories). And I think it's only appropriate that I start with my own. How else will I know what to ask? But it is going to take action and really allowing myself to fall into time here, "for what is actual is only actual for one time," meaning I can't get caught up missing home so much, nor can I let myself miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity to live, learn and hone my craft. "Consequently, I rejoice," writes Eliot, "having to construct something." This is indeed "the place of solitude," but if only I can learn to "sit still" and listen to my experience, I'm certain I'll have something incredible by the end of this year.
I thank my sister for reminding me of this great poem, which today takes on more meaning for me than ever before:

from "ash-wednesday"
by t.s. eliot

Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and...
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And I pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again...

Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still...

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross...
And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices...
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel...
Quickens to recoverAnd the blind eye creates...
And smell renews...

This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross...

Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still...


---Life is in the journey, kids. So sit still, listen up, and enjoy the ride....
(NB: I know I write this and will have trouble living it out still, but as Eliot also writes, "it is all in the trying").