Hi folks, I'm attempting to reflect on some heart stuff of writing this month. I like a little group of writers from the late 1800 through to the last century who spent their lives writing their hearts out and basically not getting everything they wanted out of life.
These gals, Jane Austin, Emily Bronte, Charlotte Bronte, Anne Bronte, Emily Dickinson, and Louisa May Alcott, I wish we could have been neighbors. They wrote from their worlds and their boundless imaginations and for most part struggled to put together a living. They suffered from many illnesses that limited their lives. They were the kind of people that paddled their own canoes mainly because no big ship ever came their way that could get them to better shores. Good things are born of suffering.
I can imagine how it felt to have the thing you greatly feared to make residence with you and then end up shaping every moment of your lives. Honestly I'm no scholar of their lives, but I have read most of their books. I've felt the pain they felt and the wild dreams that tagged along with them. I'm glad they took the time to share their view with others.
The big reflection from all this is simple. I hope that you keep writing even if things are hard. I hope that you keep spinning the stories that you are meant to spin. Believe a chart is given.
I hope that you live your life large and don't limit yourselves because the walls seem extra tight at times. Seize the day.
I'm calling this week's doodle: "In the dust".
I'm offering a garden of quotes today:
For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn? Jane Austen
I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind. Emily Bronte
I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will. Charlotte Bronte
She was trusted and valued by her father, loved and courted by all dogs, cats, children, and poor people, and slighted and neglected by everybody else.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship.
Louisa May Alcott