I began this sketch last summer when I despaired how to deal with a chapter that left me flummoxed then and in a pickle now. Since my hands couldn’t type I thought to use them to draw how I felt not being able to write. I intended a scream of despair, and instead a sort of musing, mulling it over came through. So I abandoned the drawing and got back to the business of writing. Now, months later, back to reworking the chapter yet again, I had another thought about the process and thought to finish the drawing and add this to it:

There’s a hum to the universe, a thrum to the universe, an AUM or an OM. To make the sound is to put yourself in the sightlines, the crosshairs, the frequency band of the universe. The sitting still, the closing of eyes, the opening of heart to ALL That Is…

I sat, but not entirely still. I left eyes open, a little. I raised my arms more in despair than in prayer. For my task was not To Be Here Now, but to Be Back There Where It All Began. Back in Time. To Feel the Hum of Days Gone By When I Lived Through An Emotional Cyclone And Was Ravaged By the Beast. Torn Asunder. Yet Lived To Tell The Tale. Here, now, telling the tale, wanting to scream in despair at the impossibility of trying to make sense of a love that made no sense at all… And so putting myself back in Time, back in the Frequency of a Younger Self, of days gone by. The one who Let It Happen. Because she felt the Humming and the Thrumming.

Is memoir writing the best form of Time Travel ever?

Writing memoir, writing memories, is to put yourself back in a frequency band that no longer exists.

Or does it? Is memoir writing the best form of Time Travel ever? Traveling back into your own past to feel again the vibrations you could only have felt then, feeling the hum and the thrum of them, the quickening of the heart. The chaos that followed was part of it too. That’s the rub. Remembering the chaos. But now you can sort it. Be Here and be There, when it was not yet sorted. But now you can Remember it with Love. Be here now, remembering with Love, what Was Then. Bringing it into the Aum and the Om of the Now. Bringing it into your open heart. To make peace with it. So stay in the seat of Remembrance. Stay in the hum and the thrum.

And so I Continue where I left off… but for one difference. The hand once thrown up in despair, is now ready to catch an idea, should it float through the air ~~~