Day 5: Back to the World of Stories

I've spent nearly the entire day reading the second half of Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking. I have never read anything so comprehensive about grief. Or anything so brave. To try to excavate the layers of her grief after her husband's death... It seems unthinkable to me.

That book shifted something inside me. After I finished it, I felt disoriented, like I do after an intense writing session--like there's a huge electrical charge in my head and I have to get out of the house. Like I just hit upon some huge realization and it's threatening to blow right out of my head.

But, to keep the focus on the new year and progression... This is the first book in weeks I've sat down and read all the way through. Lately, I haven't had the concentration to sit and read a book, at least not for more than a few pages at a time. This, I hope, is progress. Reading is as fundamental as breathing or eating for me. The fact that I couldn't was a sure sign that all was not well with me.

This is one of those posts that doesn't make sense as I'm writing it. And I wonder if it will make sense when I reread it later. But something has definitely been knocked loose inside me by reading this book. And it's going to take time to digest it.

In the meantime, I'm relieved that I could sit down and read again, lose myself in a story and remember again why I want to write. That urgency to sit down and create is coming back. A sign that I'm coming back to myself? You know, I think so. I the the juices are starting to flow again. I may be coming back from underground...

J