It is Wednesday afternoon and instead of being at work, sitting at my desk in our office 23 floors above Bourke Street watching the constant showers sweep over Melbourne CBD and Port Phillip Bay, I am cosied up in bed, sick. My chest is aching and congested, my sinuses throb and I’ve almost lost my voice. All that remains is a raspy intonation that makes me barely understood. Outside, the bone-chilling Antarctic wind hurtles along the rain-dampened bitumen and tosses the waxy leaves of the Waratah trees. I’m grateful to be inside, sipping my honey-sweetened chai tea and kept warm by the ducted heating pumping warm air down from the ceiling.
Although I am at home sick, I feel like I should be writing and if I’m writing I should be writing my book. It doesn’t matter that today I am unwell, tired and just want to sleep. I haven’t written a word of my book for over two weeks now and I know that if I ever want to finish the project then I need to keep bringing myself back to the page. After months of writing on and off, I recognize this as part of my rhythm. I get into the flow for several days then pull back before getting into the flow once more. This is just one of those pulling back times although a little longer than usual and a little more deliberate.
Two weeks ago, I borrowed a book from a friend. It was a travel memoir filled with photos and lots of heart. As I started to read it, my heart whispered to me again as it has whispered before, “This is the type of book that you should write.” I devoured the book reading it from cover to cover in one night and then ordered my own copy from Book Depository. Written in a whimsical, nostalgic style not dissimilar to my own, it made me step back and think about how I’ve been telling my story. I realized that in the process of "laying the slab", of getting the words onto the page and the story told, I lost the essence of my own unique voice and the essence of my story. As soon as I recognized that, I promptly lost my physical voice.
Right now, I’m reluctant to put more words into the book until I’ve found my voice once again. I have come back here to this blog, the place that I found my voice in the first place to rediscover, reconnect and practice with the voice that is my own. In my life, I have discovered that sometimes I have to come back to what I know before I venture out into the world again clearly able to see the path before me. This is just another one of those times.
|Rainbow over Melbourne CBD from my Bourke Street Office|
|Rainy day, South Melbourne|
|Rain storm sweeping over Port Phillip Bay|