Love is what brought me back to writing. Go figure.
I was parked and camped at the Cow Palace in 2011, at The Great Dickens Christmas Fair, and there I was, a homeless boothie/vendor/member of the great family that is Ren-Faire geeks from the way back ( i.e. back to where it all began; not as far back as when Phyllis and Ron had their grand dream that changed the world, but far enough back, 1978, when they and their ilk changed my life, and the lives of those around me. They took a shy girl, and many shy kids, as well as some bold, and adults besides, (with many in between) and gave us a place wherein we fit, a puzzle just for us. It was magic, it was joy, and a normal life would never be acceptable to us, any of us, ever, ever again.)
So there I was, all those years later, in a vintage Airstream staying in a huge parking lot with the intent of traveling from faire to faire in that gleaming metal tube for a large chunk of the rest of my days.
Little did I know that The Universe had other ideas.
There was a man coming to visit me; a man who I’d been acquainted with for twenty years, but who I’d gotten to know via Facebook during the previous 18 months, while he was losing his marriage and I was losing my house. He was handsome and I was giddy. A few days before his visit, I was walking my dog on a lovely moonlit night when the muse grabbed me and these words came tumbling out through my fingers to my waiting Android, ready to post to Facebook:
With the soft breeze chasing the gossamer clouds across the moonlit skies, there are worse places, I think, to walk my dog than the tree shrouded Cow Palace parking lot…but, tonight at least, there are none better!
So, there it was, the seed was sown…though in fairness, it was actually sown some ten months before (or foretold, I can never be sure) when I sat down in front of a psychic at The Bay Area Renaissance Festival in Tampa, Florida for the weirdest reading of my life. No cards, she never looked at my palm, there was no crystal ball. I sat down and she started talking, that was it.
“Have you ever thought about moving into a trailer and traveling from faire to faire?” She asked.
Well, yes I’d thought about it, but at that point it looked like I was going to be able to save my house, so I said:
“Well, yes, I’ve thought about it, but at this point it looks like I’m going to be able to save my house.”
“I see you in a trailer, traveling. And it’s going to be the happiest time in your life.”
(Ohhhhhhh-kay, I thought)
“And,” she continued “your writing is really going to take off.”
“I don’t write.” I told her. And at that point I hadn’t written in 25 years.
“Well I see you writing. And you’re going to be fairly successful at it.”
“But I have a career.” I insisted “I don’t have time to write.”
“Well I SEE you writing;” she argued back “and living on the road. In a trailer. And it’s going to be the happiest years of your life!”
With that she dismissed me, and I was left wondering if I’d just wasted thirty-five very good dollars…
I didn’t remember what the psychic had said several months later when I stepped out of my lovely mountain house for the very last time, hitched up my newly purchased trailer and drove up highway 50 for a show in South Lake Tahoe…I didn’t remember those words several months later, on that November night at the Cow Palace when I wrote so prettily about the moonlight and the clouds…I didn’t remember her words until a month after that; after it (seemingly)hadn’t worked out with the visiting guy; after I joined a couple of online dating sites, so as to get back on the horse and keep riding; after finding that I loved reading and writing profiles, perhaps even more than the concept or possibility of meeting a fabulous man. I didn’t remember those words until the night I published my very first ever blog post about the hilarious, mortifying ridiculousness of online dating and the funny-funny story that I just HAD to tell about what I’d gone and done. ( https://blatherbabe.wordpress.com/2011/12/28/oh-i-do-blather-ondont-i/ ) Yep, that was when I remembered the psychic and her fateful words, and that is when I began to write in earnest.
No, I mean it, in earnest. From that moment on there was no greater joy in my life than writing. And what was I writing about? Why love of course, all the ups and downs, the swooning and the tears, and the growth that comes when you dare to open your soul to another.
Here we are, two years have passed since the psychic foretold my happy new life, and more than a year since the writing began. I haven’t yet found my next great love, despite the handful of men that have come across my path and stayed a bit, but my heart is still open, and I await the possibilities…