Heartbreak, Writing, Birth & The Mop

This mid morning I’m not going to write about Obama, or Hillary, or even Obama’s potential running mate – Webb, which was my other option for today. No, I’m not going to write about them because, well, because I’m heartbroken and I can’t think straight – and it’s best not to do write about these things in haste or while going through chest pain (the figurative kind that feels, truly, physical). Instead, I’ve decided to give my apartment a good cleaning. And, truthfully, I’m cleaning because of two reasons. The first is that I’m heartbroken. This is what is leading to the second reason which is a stop in the flow of creative juices. I’m almost done with the first draft of my novel, you see…and this morning I can’t seem to write. It’s never an issue because I usually force myself. And I realize, more than I realize anything else, that writing is like birth – it’s the excitement of conceiving; the ninth months of working towards a draft; the contractions of writing the end of that first draft; and then it’s the hard part – the labor. The pushing and pushing and pushing through until the damn thing’s finally out. And when it’s out – when it’s out, god does it feel good – a miraculous little bundle of bliss. Perhaps this is what letting go will be like, as well -- perhaps this is what it feels like when the heartbreak is over.

Oh, god, please heal my heart…

Well, back to the mop – and then to then onward towards the pushing. Next time I hope I have something more meaningful to say…My apologies. Forgive me gods of politics, arts and science – today I have given into the gods of love.