Writing and stuff

This morning was another good writing morning — the prompt was “Write about something you regret doing.” There came Lilly, the owner of the bottle shop in the neighborhood, and her very solitary life, and how at one point it wasn’t so solitary. It was very much a “the path not taken” kind of story.

Last night I went for a walk, just to think about writing. Made a bunch of connections in the neighborhood, seeing Lilly, Marta, a few others, building the neighborhood with more stories, more locations. Imbuing it with more feeling.

I’m still thinking about wildness from “Fearless Creating”. I had wild hair today. Just pushed it back from my forehead, again and again, until it stayed back and up on its own. I love having short, trainable hair. And I really loved having wild hair today. I reminded myself of it a few times during the day. I have wild hair I’d whisper. It was permission to have wild thoughts, to make wild leaps of faith, to have wild conclusions and connections and wild dreams. I don’t have to be boring today (hush Cyn.) I can make unusual word combinations. I can draw pictures of my wild face — the one with that’s all eyes and nose and mouth (sensing), the one with the eye sitting in the ear, the one with crazy teeth and the one that’s laughing and weeping at the same time.

I have wild hair. Much more freeing, to me, than being naked. Mainly because I’ll wear my wild hair out, purposefully making it even wilder before I pass through the door, while my nakedness is something I cover, won’t let others see.

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