The winter of my discontent

I don't know about anyone else, but winter is not my favorite season. Don't get me wrong, I love a roaring fire and watching the rain outside, but that’s usually a fleeting moment. Those of us who manage chronic pain know that our defences are lowered by the constant battle to untense muscles tightened by the low temperatures. Along with the naked trees, misty streets and bone aching cold, winter strips me bare. And it hurts. I have adopted a hot water bottle and a wheat bag. They join in most of my travels. Sometimes just from room to room. The scent of lavender from the wheat bag reminds me that spring will inevitably arrive and the gloom will dissipate. In the meantime, I write as much as I am able to while the heater hums and my old dog snores on the study chair. Time and pain pass. This morning I awoke, not to the usual stillness of the winter but to a bird twittering in the branches outside my window. Maybe spring is closer than I think.

I'm a twit at twitter

Someone told me to exercise my brain, not just keep it active, but ‘stretch’ it through new challenges: learn a language, a craft, a skill. It’s supposed to help stave off dementia. Figured I’d learn to twitter. That way I'm braining s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g while keeping up with a technological world that passes my station platform like a bullet train while I'm still trying to figure out how to buy a ticket. At the rate I'm learning, my brain will stretch twice around the globe. I'm persevering despite the challenges. My progress is hindered by the fact that getting old sucks and body bits don’t work as they once did. I can’t see so well on my small screen smart phone (phone smart/I'm not) and reading tweets gets problematic so I have two pairs of specs these days: boring reading ones, flashy ones for social occasions. I recently wore the flashier ones trying to locate the unflashy reading ones. Fifteen minutes later I located the second pair where I’d pushed them up onto my head. Good look. Tweet that.

Writing rhythm

Writing rhythm
Having trouble getting into a writing rhythm? Writers talk about ‘discipline’ when it comes to writing. It’s a harsh word. I prefer Julia Cameron’s expression of being ‘enthused’ for writing. It takes us to the page willingly. I've just done Morning Pages – three hand writing pages in my beloved fountain pen. I write them before I get out of bed when my head is full of the remnants of dreams. I’ve noticed that the enthusiasm I'm developing for these pages is growing because I just feel better for doing it. Maybe its an endorphin thing. Want to know more? http://www.theartistsway.com/ or twitter: @J_CameronLive