Going like a bush fire...

Last night I got home and sat straight down to writing again. Typed all evening. Ate hastily reheated remains of previous night's supper. Typed on until I was pie-eyed again. It was wonderful. It was going like a blaze. How am I going to cope without my laptop for four days this weekend? I shall have to take a notebook (paper kind, of course!) to WOMAD so that I can carry on regardless. Nothing I know, nothing at all, is like the buzz of working when the work is flowing. I am never more in the moment than then, because it is simply the best place in my life to be.

Listened to music while I worked; two albums of Bulgarian choral music and then a brilliant recording by Cathal Hayden, of Irish traditional fiddle and banjo music. He plays a slow air called "A Stór mo Chroi" which is hauntingly beautiful and has been on my brain ever since. I don't know any Erse speakers, so don't know what that means, but it is a melody to gaze out at the sea to and dream of dark eyes looking into your own... I did have an Irish woman next to me briefly on my way into work this morning, stuck at traffic lights while idiot drivers went through the red light in front of us. She was muttering under her breath "Straight through the red light! Straight through the red light! Jesus God!" in a lovely Ulster accent as we watched and waited. Not enough time to ask if she spoke Irish Gaelic, though, before finally the idiots let those who actually had the right of way have the use of the road, and she sailed off on her bike and went the opposite way to me.

Thought for the day...

A little nugget of wisdom, from a slightly unexpected source:

"...no amount of success or exposure, or opportunity is going to really matter or be ultimately fulfilling unless you can be totally present in what you're doing right now."

- Zachary Quinto (The hot hot hot new Mr Spock).

I've just found he has a website. He seems like a good bloke, as well as being hot hot hot.

Thought for the day (no. 2), occurring to me on considering Zachary Quinto (Hmm -"For I shall consider my cat Zachary Quinto/ For he is the servant of the living god, duly and daily serving him/ For he is hot hot hot..." - apologies to Christopher Smart and anyone else concerned or offended by that but I couldn't resist it. Note to self; actually, "Zachary Quinto" would be a great name for a cat...).

Sorry, I'll begin again. Thought for the day (no. 2): Whatever can it be like, to be so attractive that it is the first, and sometimes even the only, thing people notice about you? I am not sure I could stand it (so it's a good thing I don't need to try). But however does Mr Quinto manage to go down to the corner shop (or U.S. equivalent) to buy a loaf or a pint of milk without getting hassled every step of the way? Imagine having to wear dark glasses and walk with a stoop whenever you went out. One would need to be a capable actor to carry it off. (Fortunately for Mr Quinto, he is).

Anyway, it amused me to see someone out of the blue saying just exactly that; be in the moment, not pinning all your thoughts on what might be, or on what may have been, or what is no more, or maybe never was. Be present in what you're doing right now. He even has the guts to lay it right on the line, and say "Nothing else is going to matter if you don't do this", which a lot of pink, fluffy, lovey types who preach "be present in the moment" don't have the nerve to do. But it's true; live only in your head, not in the world, and ultimately you aren't really alive. Be embodied, be alive here and now, and deeply committed and involved and related-to what you are doing; because this life is all we have, and whatever follows after, we will not have this life again. (Apologies to Rose McCauley as well, since I've just realised I'm quoting "The Towers of Trebizond" there).

I've begun re-reading "She who changes" by Carol Christ, a marvellous book about feminism and process philosophy, so I'm feeling deep. And I had a good afternoon yesterday, moving a writing project on a good bit. I was typing and typing all afternoon until I was so tired I typed the immortal phrase "I am not string enough to do this" and knew I had to go and get some tea and chill out for a bit. It is so easy to get so intensely into what you are doing right now, if it is flowing and going well; but not being string enough is a less-than-desirable state of affairs for one's protagonist to find herself in, and sometimes you have to stop and let the flesh rest even if the spirit is willing to go on till silly-o'clock...