by Tulasi-Priya on Thursday 28 June 2012

The only thing that is going to save me is to focus on what I have to say, really have to say. Not what I have playing on a loop in my brain, but what I wanted to say when I was 10, 11, 12 years old, when I was just starting to come into a sense of self, but lacked the language and experience to voice it.  What needs to be told is not merely the story of my life at that time, or at any other time, but what my deep dream of myself in the world was. That dream has not changed throughout my whole long-but-short life, but it did get buried. I need to dig it up, if only to give it a proper funeral; lay it out on the table, with candles at its head and feet; readers, like a procession of mourners, to file past and murmur their respects. The deep dream: it’s been there all along, inhumed in my story.

But how does a dream die? Maybe nothing died, but was simply forgotten. Maybe it’s treasure that will be unearthed.

What’s waiting below the surface?

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{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }

Sarah W June 28, 2012 at 7:29 am

The flippant answer is ‘terminal exhaustion,’ but maybe it’s a resurrected dream and the path to reach it?


Tulasi-Priya June 28, 2012 at 11:02 pm

I won’t say exhaustion is superficial, but I don’t think it goes as deep as the dream does. I think about Flannery O’Connor, working on a story practically up until the moment of her death from lupus. I need to get me a picture of her so I can light my FTF candle every day and make a little prayer to her. I needs me some of that gumption.


SparksInShadow June 28, 2012 at 7:17 pm

I hope it’s true that nothing died and was only forgotten. I’ve been hoping that for myself, too.

I think my desire to write about my childhood is less about trying to remember than it is about recording it for whatever reason, maybe so old age doesn’t steal it somehow and hide it from my daughter or anyone else who might want to know one day.

I was surprised by the reaction to Sidewalks on SIS (and to the most personal but grown-up stories on WOH), but there’s so much more below my surface, screaming to be written down even though I haven’t got the time, yet. Soon I hope.


Tulasi-Priya June 28, 2012 at 10:59 pm

Ré, I have been woefully negligent in visiting other people’s blogs (besides Betsy’s), but I will definitely check out the post you mention. And you of all people are certainly a buried treasure on the interwebs. I hope you make the time to get those stories down and out (there) for the world to read. What exactly is stopping you? Since I struggle with time management, it might help me to hear about yours.


SparksInShadow June 29, 2012 at 12:15 am

Even with the help I’m getting from friends, I need to be taking pictures to replace the ones on WOH so I can turn it into an ebook. (Possible money-making ventures are a priority right now.) I should have been done weeks ago, but depression and a severe lack of sleep have derailed me, along with fear of failure.

Time management (and guts) go out the window for me when I can’t sleep. Now the heat is fogging my brain even more. And that’s enough of my sob story. I wish you the best with your time issues, too. I think this is a difficult time of year for many of us to stick to a schedule anyway.


Tulasi-Priya June 29, 2012 at 9:36 am

Ré, I’m doing the opposite; I’m trying to become MORE structured at this “difficult time of year.” More later.

As far as money for a creative project goes, have you looked into Kickstarter?


SparksInShadow June 30, 2012 at 8:47 pm

Thanks for the tip, but a rep from Kickstarter, at an Arts expo here a couple months ago, told me that it doesn’t work unless you already know LOTS of people. I know so few that it added to my depression. Thank goodness ebooks are cheap to get out there, and after that the blogs and Twitter are free to use to promote them. All I need to do is get the photos taken. Not easy, but I’m working on it. I think I got a couple more today.

Tulasi-Priya June 30, 2012 at 10:55 pm

You have nothing to lose by trying anyway, and your work will be exposed to more people.

Averil July 2, 2012 at 12:57 pm

Weird, isn’t it, the way writing recalls long-forgotten stories? Sometimes I’m already in the middle of writing something before I realize it’s a memory and not something I’ve invented.

(I have a new email address and have now lost all my email notifications–which is my excuse for being late to the party.)


Tulasi-Priya July 2, 2012 at 2:40 pm

Whew, glad you made it, Ave (can I call you that?); I was just about to kick into neediness gear.

I seemingly can’t remember jack about the past, but if I start writing about something that I do remember, some other memory always pops up (rabbit-like: glowing white, twitchy and squirmy) out of the black (but not infinite) hole that is my memory. I remember reading about a study of old nuns and dementia: the ones who kept a journal didn’t get it. Let it be a lesson to all of us.


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