Daybook Writing Life

Daybook: September, here we come

This is a perfect day to start my daybook and start chatting about what is going on in my life as a writer and human being. Mostly I’m starting this because now I have time to do this as I broke my ankle, and I’m waiting for my surgery. Before this, I was running around, trying to boulder outdoors full-time, fix my first book and write my fourth book, and just started training as an OT at a prison hospital. So you can imagine what load I put on my body. Only sleeping four to five hours a night. So it was no wonder my ankle broke while I tried an easy climb outdoors. Silly me.

So, now I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that I won’t be climbing for two months. It’s not so bad, but when it comes to sending your max grade projects, the best climbing season is on its way, and I will miss it. It makes me so sad and angry. So it goes. I have to deal with it. I’m told to look at the silver linings, but as far as I’m concerned, they can go and **** themselves. See, I’m not feeling very appreciative. I know this is not the end of the world, and now I have more time to write my books and get them out there. I’m happy about that. But still, I feel lousy about missing a booked climbing trip and being unable to hang with my friends at the rocks. I keep wondering about all those lines people say to me; that this is meant to be. I don’t believe in such things. Of course, now I have more time to work on my hangboard training and strengthen my fingers, and I might even come out of this as a better climber. Still two freaking months without climbing. My head will explode. I’m a bit obsessed, I know.

Writing-wise. I’m constantly thinking about all the mistakes I’m making and getting over myself, not letting myself write freely. I think I’m putting too much pressure on myself and letting the perfectionist inside do all the talking instead of relaxing. I hope the extra sleep I’m getting now will help with that. I sometimes wonder if there are writers who don’t fret about their writing and just let it flow out of them. Can there ever exist such a person? If there does, how is one supposed to achieve such a zen state of being? I guess it’s the same thing as with everything. It’s about control, thinking the worst, and seeing that everything is permanent. I have come to see them as the three curses of existing. The only way out is mindfulness and meditation, or so they say. It’s a tall order if we all must become Buddhist monks to survive. How would such a society function?

All my ruminations tell me that everything else in my life is good. I have time to worry about the trivialities. Silly if you think about it. How can we create problems and worry about meaningless things in our current world, where people die under bombs? I don’t mean our worries don’t hold some value to us. They do. But sometimes, I think we, including me, make problems bigger than they should be. Is it out of fear of making mistakes or missing out or losing something? All coming back to that zen way of being. Where there is attachment, there’s suffering. But being unattached isn’t the solution? Or is it? I’m not sure anymore. I guess it comes to how we value our brief stay here. For the past months, I have realized that I want to experience and see everything rather than play it safe. I have played it safe thus far, thinking and judging life too harshly. Maybe the ankle is a patch of honor? I tried.

Thanks for reading my ramblings ❤ Have a great day ❤

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