The artistic reboot program Brenda and I are working through is called It’s Never Too Late To Begin Again.
The book is actually written for the newly retired; So Brenda and I are having to modify the program as neither of us are even remotely “retired”. We are both facing midlife and feeling the need to reorient ourselves to a new rhythm of life, though. In that process, the book hits home, but we each are having to figure out how to make a book written for people with a lot of disposable time fit our lifestyles.
Brenda is working out her pattern and I am working out mine. The program is built around several weekly projects:
- The morning pages- 3 pages a day written when you first get up.
- Weekly walks- 2 weekly walks of 20 minutes a piece to clear the mind.
- Memoir- a 12 step breakdown of life from the beginning asking questions of life designed to bring deeper revelation
- A weekly hour-long artistic date with yourself.
The morning pages are to be entirely private.Man!!! are they revealing a lot of what is in my heart.
I don’t know what Brenda will do, but for myself I am going to put my Memoir here for everyone to read. I think knowing where I come from will help you all to understand a lot about my current life and calling at the Vicarage.
This week’s memoir involves 10 questions about my life between the ages of 1-4.
Question # 3 was Did you have any pets? The answer to that is no.
Since that question was so short and boring here is my answer to question #4 as well
What is you earliest memory?
I have a lot of snatches. My father taking away my pacifier because he thought I was too old for it (my first word was “friend” and that was my pacifier’s name).
I remember crying in my crib over losing “Friend”.
I remember watching late night horror shows with Dad. Maybe because it kept me quiet after losing “Friend”. I don’t really know that to be true…but maybe
I remember my grandmother castigating me in the kitchen because I was potty training and had an accident. I remember her and my mother fighting over it.
I remember the spirits in the grey house visiting me and tormenting me. I remember my parents not believing me that they were real (who could blame them I guess).
I remember the one armed man and the snake in the back yard and the bear
I remember my Aunt Lore cutting my hair in the kitchen of her house on Route 202 before she left for Hawaii. I remember squirming in the chair and making her mad.