It's a start.

It’s been more than two years since my boy set up this blog for me to start writing again (after listening to me talk about writing for a lot longer than that). More Than Two Years. Of, simply put, procrastination. Of delay tactics. Of waiting until…

I’d had the perfect first blog post idea. I’d set up the perfectly designed webpages and profile. I’d thought of the perfect theme for my blog. The study was set up just so. I’d bought a new computer, notebook and writing desk. Work was quiet. My exams were over. My assignments were done. My subjects were finished for the semester/year. Our renovations were complete (haha!). The engagement party was over. The wedding was over. I’d finished writing my travel journal. I’d written my honeymoon blog. I’d got the time to sit and write (not that easy when you’re working, studying, travelling, renovating and getting married).

I’ve written stories and anecdotes in my head in the shower, on my walks, at the gym, in the garden, and in the car, but I decided they weren’t good enough to start off with. I’ve read hundreds of other people’s blogs and articles and tips for writing (the key tip to being a writer: write). I’ve bought (and sent my boy out to buy) books on writing and creativity that I’m yet to fully read. I’ve had kinesiology to remove blocks and gain confidence. I’ve taken herbs and talked at length with my naturopath about writing – and my excuses for not starting it again. I’ve bored my friends senseless with conversations about how I’m going to start writing again and how I used to write quite a lot.

And then I was sitting here this morning, warming my hands on a cup of steaming herby tea, listening to Deepak Chopra talk about the laws of attraction, before his melodic tones guided me through a short meditation. I was looking out the window at one of my daisy bushes in full bloom. The delicate, pure white flowers were gently dancing in the wind (it’s going to be windy here today, the weathermen say). The magpies and crows were cackling and swooping and playing in the morning light. I could hear the parrots calling to one another. The winter sun was rising over the roof tops. The trees were silhouetted against the sky. My cats were curled up so cosily near me, sleeping off the night’s chill (but I think secretly with one eye open, ears pricked, hoping I’d play the laser pointer game with them before I went to work). 

And I thought, “This is a pretty good time to start writing. What I write might not be perfect, but it’s a perfect start”.

Once I opened that door, ideas started flitting around my head and I couldn’t concentrate at all during the meditation, wanting it to end so I could squeeze in (or out) some words before I left for work. Sorry Deepak.

What will I write about here? I’d like to write about what I consider to be nice things, because I think the world could use some more niceness. Nice happenings and nice people (it’s not hard to be nice, people). Family, friends and gratitude. Herbs, gardening and Mother Nature. Natural medicines, health and delicious, (mostly) healthy things to eat and drink. Cats. Actually, there’ll probably be quite a lot about cats.

As I sit admiring it from across the room, I’m sure my new writing desk will inspire and help me, as all good tools should. I’m hoping that the creativity of the countless people who have sat at it over the past 300 years will slowly seep from the oak grains and into my cells, inspiring and invigorating and telling me to park my butt, pick up the pen or tap at the keyboard, and just write.