Carnivore Dreams -Serendipity

I’ve been watching Serendipity tonight. Serendipity starts and ends at Christmas time.

Some serendipitous or synchronistic things have happened lately–run across a few other good writers — and that has gotten me revising my work some. But I haven’t been reading much and I need to read to be in the frame of mind to write. Rather the synchronicity of my days informs my work some and reading informs it the rest of the way–what I happen to read or see or hear, something someone says, as I’m walking around informs whatever scene or theme or character I’m presently writing.

But reading seems to set me off in certain directions the most.

I don’t feel well if I’m not writing. Or reading. Or exercising.

My heart has been jumping around. Had it checked years ago and they say it’s not the type of irregularity they worry about and my Apple watch says I don’t have an arrhythmia. It acts up sometimes–perhaps thyroid-related–I think my levels have been off. Yet it seems to be emblematic (see, that word just popped into my head like they used to) of things being awry. Off balance, not quite even or steady or familiar.

That’s it–things are not familiar. Nothing in my life is familiar — or not very much.

I notice two of the bloggers I follow talk about not writing as much or feeling as if they are trying to heal. Shell-shocked is how it feels to me.. I used to write more at turbulent times of my life, but I think I’ve been taking a pause–there are things to say, but it isn’t yet time to incorporate them into my work–not quite yet. I’m still making sense of things. Most writers can’t write about the tragedies in their lives until some time has passed and something like that has been going on for me. Not just the political climate for me or this virus idiocy–other things in my personal life. Maybe for other writers. It’s been a complete reordering of my life in the last few years–like riding out those earthquakes we had when I lived in California–tectonic shifts –where you never knew how bad it was going to get. Or what really lay in store. You could only sit on the floor and ride with it– Only earthquakes when you are younger seem right somehow–familiar–in ways they don’t quite so much anymore.

But I seem to be slowly coming awake –I’m not dead yet –-ordering my liver/organ supplements, planning to try some tweaks to my diet which usually feels like a new start. I am making bone broth again–in fact, I can begin to smell it simmering in the slow cooker–enough to keep for the week and freeze. Chicken bone broth from organic chickens.

Back to Serendipity.

Perhaps tomorrow after I put in the pot roast I’ll get some reading/writing/exercising in.

Perhaps I’ll get a bit more balance…

Happy Thursday. Are you all well?

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