Wednesday, March 15, 2006

The edge

The edge is what makes me a poet. It's always there, I strap myself in when I go to sleep, to be sure I don't roll over, drop shockingly to the distant rocks below. I bite my nails. Check product ingredients. Restrict my alcohol intake choosing very small glassware, or tall narrow flutes. I lie down in good time, tell my self 'ah' and 'this is the life'. I run. So far, poetry has kept me away from the edge more than anything else. I say so far, because everything works for a while. Nothing has lasted.

Today I'm faced with a tough decision. Do I work all day, write poetry at night, or do I train for a mountain bike race during the day and work at night. Does my training and my riding keep me away from the edge like poetry. Can I survive without riding and without competition. Can I survive without poetry. Two days ago I said "Ok, time to get going - 90 days - put a note up on the damn blog, and stop writing." You see, writing craft is posessive. It doesn't want to share. I become totally immersed and everything else wallows. So I give myself specific writing time, and schedule my must-dos around it - training is like that too. They are siblings, rivaling for my attention. It's driving me crazy.

I miss writing already, and it's not even been a week. Biking kept me from the edge for 10 years. The rock, the trail, the steep, the woods, the bear and cougar, my dog his ears floating at either side of his grin, the climb and the pain, the cool water and mud mud mud, my breath - never have I been so acquainted with my breath.

I miss biking terribly.



Blogger Bob Hoeppner said...

I've faced similar choices. I also play guitar, and I decided to ignore it in favor of focusing more on poetry. I have all kinds of things that interest me, but I've found I want to focus on one thing at a time.

Good luck on navigating through your way of competing interests!

9:18 AM  

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