Most mornings I journal at the dining table, facing windows that open to the woods behind my condo. Tranquility usually reigns over the start of my day with the familiar scratch of pen to paper, slow coffee sips and the faint rhythm of cars passing on the other side of the tree line. Birds and bugs warble and chitter.
The cats have their places, too. Lucie usually lazes in a sunspot in the middle of the room. Prana is always closer by (because she also chases Lucie away from me), at my feet or in a corner chair. She tends to claim chairs—even mine, if I get up for something. Sometimes Prana wriggles her way behind me and bats me with her tail until I stand up and figure out what she wants. (Whoever said cats are good companions for writers?)
During the recent COVID-19 stay-at-home orders, my morning ritual stretched across the empty morning hours from journaling, to reading, to other creative pursuits. I had more time off in those months than I had in about 20 years. The experience felt surreal, balancing the financial stress of maintaining the viability of my small business with the gift of much needed time and space for meaningful self-care.
I slept and rested for many extra hours in the beginning. My physical body had been screaming at me for months, and I finally had the chance to replenish. I connected with friends by handwritten note and extended phone calls, and ran errands and grocery-shopped for my mom. I read through piles of books I bought over the past few years and hadn’t yet opened; if I was no longer interested in it, or it didn’t keep my attention, I didn’t read through to the end. Some of those books are still on my shelf, but a large bag was headed out for donation.
One new purchase was Wild Words, so I could participate in the Tweetspeak book club discussion. While I had already lived through and processed so much of life stages the book covered, I found the read to be a good reminder of what I already knew. My daughter is grown, and I am no longer trying to balance her needs and my own in the household. My time is essentially mine to manage.
There’s a desk with a computer, in a corner of my bedroom. This is where I do my more serious writing work. I spent time developing this space several years ago, during the On Being a Writer workshop led by Charity Singleton Craig and Ann Kroeker. I’ve spent so much time at the desk in the past few months, but this space, too, needed a clearing. Physically, the desk area is spacious and allows me to write comfortably. I have a few inspiration objects and it’s near a window. Amazing light and birdsong in the background most days.
What I hadn’t realized, though, is that my mental space had become cluttered with time- and energy-intensive obligations. I made the decision to let go of several volunteer services that I had been holding onto. I knew my call to them had been completed, but was having a hard time walking away. When it came down to the final decision, I cut the cord because I knew it would free up time to write.
I’m not sure a few years ago I would have believed I had that option; now I understand how essential it is to my well-being. Letting go of something finite, to welcome in more liminal time. I’m okay with that, because I know I need the empty space for new ideas to form and drift to the surface.
In the past, I’ve attended group retreats to support my writing life. I’ve created my own personal writing retreats in remote areas, and I’ve popped into NYC or down the shore for daily retreats. I’m in a season now, like many others, where my home needs to be my greatest retreat. How ironic that so many of us have to be ordered to stay at home.
I can hear myself think again, in my own voice.
Photo by Fio Condutor, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Michelle Ortega.
Browse more Pandemic Journal entries
- Pandemic Journal: An Entry on the Expansive Space of Home - September 17, 2020
- Grief, a Leaf, and Haibun Magic - June 4, 2020
- Memoir Notebook: My Moveable Feast - January 29, 2016
Katie says
Michelle,
“I can hear myself think again, in my own voice.”
YES, this.
On my last couple of stays at my mother’s to care for her at night, I read WILD WORDS. This upcoming week I plan to review my notes from it and hopefully begin her book, Eat this Poem.
So good to read your writing here again and know you are well and making great use of your time and space:)
Gratefully,
Katie
Michelle says
HI Katie, It’s good to reconnect with you here! Wasn’t Wild Words a soothing read after (I imagine) a long day of caregiving? Nicole has a way of detailing all the daily activity with rendering it drudgery. 🙂
L.L. Barkat says
I could just feel the peace of this. Lovely, Michelle.
And it is really something to think in one’s own voice. What do you believe makes a person’s voice truly their own?
Michelle Ortega says
Thank you, Laura!
I find at the end of the week, my mind continues to swirl with *work thoughts*, as I’m sure it does for everyone. Because I spend 95% of my days with my hands on people as they speak, their voices literally get stuck in my head. Sometimes I have to keep their words spinning in the background until I can process them, and sometimes it’s difficult to let them go. Also, I do tend to collect lists of things to do that clutter my brain. Sometimes I have *stress tracks* that just repeat (words that really bugged me during the week, or old negatives that resurface from time to time in stress). I still do take time on the weekends to journal and clear all of that out, so I can hear what’s actually on my own mind. It’s only after I empty do my words actually reflect where I am in the present, or what I want to write about.
I believe we all have the need to empty and clear to open up the creative channels; I have found that I tend to *carry* many more voices than I realized.
L.L. Barkat says
This is fascinating. I hadn’t considered how your work itself lends you voices you may or may not want to carry with you. So very happy, once again, for your time off! 🙂
Megan Willome says
Oh, that last line, Michelle!
Michelle Ortega says
Thank you, Megan! 🙂
Bethany R. says
Also loving that closing line, “I can hear myself think again, in my own voice.” Resonates. Thanks so much for sharing this picture of how you’re creating, or maybe caretaking, a space within your space.
Michelle Ortega says
Thank you, Bethany, for *joining* my space! 🙂
Bethany R. says
My pleasure. 🙂
Sandra Heska King says
I could feel my whole self relax while I read this. And that last line. Ahhhh…. Thank you, Michelle.
Michelle Ortega says
You’re welcome, Sandy! Thanks for spending the time here. 🙂
Darlene S. says
Michelle, you are a master at giving readers space enough to “own” part of your story as their own. That is so important nowadays. And as always, thank you for sharing personal aspects of your ordinary, extraordinary daily life.
Of course that last line is where the big stuff is happening! Kudos to you for the hard-earned, focused progress. But for me? Well, I’m hiking through that mental declutter phase. One step at a time, aye?
Michelle Ortega says
Yes, one step at a time!! Thank you for stopping by to read this! 🙂