Gasping for Air

"Reading is my inhale. Writing is my exhale."  Glennon Melton

This summer I read like a drowning woman, desperate to devour as much as I could before the real world commenced and school schedules dictated and sports dominated and logistics and administrivia consumed my increasingly addled brain. Throughout this chilly, wet summer, I inhaled, in gulps, quickly, sharply, nearly hyperventilating, in shallow bursts and with surprising speed. There was so much reading to do in such a short amount of time, and since I was ill for quite a bit of the summer, the activity that required the least amount of creative or physical exertion won out.  So reading it was.

But it hurts my chest, all this inhaling without an exhale.  There's a reason they go together, after all.  But in truth, the more time that passes, the more afraid I am to exhale these thoughts and ideas.  I've been holding my breath for so long, (since July, but who's counting?), and I feel as though I've forgotten how to release.  Where do I start?  Which book?  Which story?  Which moment?   

Now August has melted into September and I've (strangely, for me) already decorated for fall.  And still nothing.  I write in my head every day but the aforementioned busy-ness of life, as well as some serious writer's block, (and I'm not gonna lie, a renewed yoga obsession), has prevented me from sitting down and writing.  And in truth, I've been sick and the family has been sick and school has started for the three bigs and I'm teaching a new class at the university and the baby has some scary medical issues and I have been cold afraid to write, to be exposed, and to  feel even more vulnerable than I already do.  So.  There it is.

This space, while sitting and gathering dust, has called to me in louder and louder tones as the air has cooled and I've lurched into a new season.  Scared or not, blocked or not, I need to spend time here.  Because for me, and I know for many others, I don't really know what I think until I write it.

The exhale is long overdue.

And I'm ready to stop holding my breath.