Keeping the creative life…

I have to write fast today.  Some days, even now, when I’m half a century old, I need to be quick.  Its called power visulaztion.  I have these gorgeous days when everything is quite in the house, the wind is quiet in the trees, the very air is empty of bird song and I can sit and write.  I can sit bundled up in a soft cashmere jumper and jeans with soft warm slippers and let the world unfold at my finger tips.  It rolls out of me in the silent space and I follow along like a young child holding his mothers hand.  Those are my favourite mornings.  The world I’m writing about becomes so real to me I can’t help but know its in my future, somehow. Maybe not a carbon copy in my future, but a version of it.  Like any novel that’s read and turned into a film.  There is one world for the imainging and then another for the reality of the visual images. 10 years ago I saw myself as I am today.  Everymorning I wrote and never missed a day.  Or if I did, it was a rear occasion.  Those were the days when my life became what it is now.  Losses are easy to handle.  Material ones almost without a blink of the eye.  Wealth started to just roll towards me.  It became part of who I was.  Not for the material money of it, or the status (although that helps) but for the beauty of abundance.  Of changing myself from be someone who struggles with money to being a wealthy person.  I started acting like a wealthy person does.  I was good with my money.  I spent often, always within my means and always generously.  I let go of any fear of poverty and just started expecting money to come to me.  The red dots on my calendar started coming in, slowly at first and then they gathered momentum.  Like changing myself from me an meduim build person to being a slim person from the core of my being, I changed from me an averagely wealthy person to being a very wealthy one.  Maddie arrived just at the start of it.  She in fact helped facilitate the transformation.  She was a unwitting witness.  We made our batch of a house into a beautiful thing.  It felt like a goregous place to live in even though it had its funny little bathroom, weird waldrobe set up and a a fundamental feeling like it was on its last legs.  But within that, we had good furniture.  It always looked funky and cool.  We are happy there.  And as G and my relationship started to develop it become something of a game between us.  One that we were on the same team as.  He became prouder of me and I became prouder of him.  He slowly but surely became the love of my life.  Gentle, gently, softely, softly we became each others best friends.  And he is still my best friend today.  He still doesn’t really see my passion for beautiful clothes, but he demands it of his floors and benches and bathrooms.  I love that about him.


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