Tomorrow afternoon I will take down my Christmas tree and store my nativity set for another year. Though I put everything else away last weekend, I wanted to hold the Christmas spirit through the twelve days of Christmas. This evening is my last hurrah. The fireplace has burned down to embers and the tree twinkles one last time to my left. I am burning a favorite candle--Colonial's White Pine, which I did manage to drip on the off white carpet. But, cleaning that up will be tomorrow's chore along with the final dismantling of Christmas. Last night's storm took down the power, but I was ready and I am tonight as another storm hovers. Tim Wheater's "The Yearning" plays in the background and I am toasty warm. Cookie has retreated. She hates the fireplace. I first learned about Tim Wheater's work through Julia Cameron's books and Julia Cameron is on my mind.
All day I have been reading Julia Cameron's "Floor Sample," her wrenching memoir released by Tarcher in 2006. When I first read the review in the Los Angeles Times last year, I'll admit I was really taken aback. I put the clipping in my journal. Somehow or other, because Julia's work has meant a lot to me in the past, I had assumed her work was a pure gift; that life had been easy for her once she got her ducks in a row.
This is a tough read, but I'll definitely see it to the end. An alcoholic and drug addict, when her daughter with Martin Scorcese was 14 months old (they had separated), she stopped drinking. I guess that was 28 years ago. I'm taking a breather from her memories right now as I have not felt so heartsick for a long time. Perhaps it is a good thing I was never a gifted writer like she is; the demons do drive those with special gifts. My own mini-Greek-tragedy life is actually idealistic in comparison. And yet, it is the walking wounded that are sometimes our most powerful teachers. My own daughter, now clean and sober for more than two years is often my teacher these days.
In her acknowledgments, Cameron shares this poem:
WHY WE WRITE
There are many things which resist naming,
And that is why we write.
We write because language is slippery,
And the truth is.
We write because
The light we have to see by
Is always shifting.
Never forget that writers are prophets.
We speak in tongues.
We testify.
We are for each other a believing mirror.
Our words make us visible.
Our listening makes us heard.
Never forget that writers are soldiers.
Our writing is the long march,
The walk into time.
Each word is a drum.
We sound it across great distances,
Reaching one another and ourselve.
Every poem is a day's march.
A celebration more necessary than water or wine.
Every poem is a drink of blood.
Never forget that writing is an act of courage--
Not on the days when it is hard and we write like sand.
Our words are torches.
We pass them hand to hand
And mouth to mouth
Like a burning kiss.
Never forget to say thank you.
Every syllable is a grace.
--Julia Cameron
So, painful as it is to read "Floor Sample," her honesty willl ultimately lead me to appreciate her work even more. Morning pages. Who among us has not heard of Julia Cameron's morning pages concept, which stemmed from her own recovery.
