Covid Called Me Back To Myself

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Abstract

still have copies of College Reviews and other small publications that I was published in.They are stashed away in a hard to open dusty drawer in the bottom of my bookcase.Two summers after graduating I applied for, got accepted to, and attended Naropa Institute (it wasn’t a university in those days) summer writing program in Boulder Colorado. I have such fond memories of sitting in the upstairs airy room of the old main orange building while Alan Ginsberg sat on the floor cross legged and led us in meditation. The one on one conferences with the iconic beat poets were intimidating and exhilarating. The summer sessions were only two weeks long. I was just a traveler, stopping by.Soon after I returned from those mind blowing workshops. I got married and had kids. Sensible me also started a business the same year my eldest daughter was born. I had convinced myself that my wistful, artsy days would be a thing of the past.There were however rare moments when my kids were all asleep, and I would sit on my back deck under the stars wrapped in a poncho and smoke a cigar. Moments when I felt like me and not the imposter lady who lived in the suburbs and in a matter of hours would be

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flipping pancakes and packing lunches .My life as a wife, mother and businesswoman was hectic to say the least. When my alarm would go off at 6:30 in the morning I’d say to myself “It’s show time” the line from the Bob Fosse’s film All That Jazz.For the next twenty five years it was show time. I don’t regret those years and having kids was and is one of the best treasures of my life. Yes, looking back I might have approached my life and time management differently. BUT….Fast forward to my life now. My three kids are thriving adults. I left the suburbs and have been divorced for nearly ten years. I’m semi retired from my business. Since this crazy year of 2020 with the Covid 19 pandemic and ensuing quarantine, I have been forced to be more still than I have since I was that nine year old girl writing poems.Something interesting is happening to me. I hadn’t planned on writing, but all of the sudden, I feel I have something to say and the time to write. Although this is new, at the same time it feels like a return to a part of me that has been dormant and waiting. I feel as if I’ve reunited with an old friend I had felt close to and missed.</article></body>

Covid Called Me Back To Myself

I have such fond memories of sitting in the upstairs airy room of the old main orange building while Alan Ginsberg sat on the floor cross legged and led us in meditation.

Original artwork by Author

When I was nine years old I was writing and archiving my own poetry. I knew the poems were good (for a nine year old) and that most importantly, they made me feel good. I had created something that wasn’t there before. I had crystallized my thoughts with words that I arranged in a new way.

For the rest of my youth, I continued to write poetry and to journal for my personal satisfaction. When it was time to go to college, I chose the very safe and practical major of Elementary Education. My education classes were not my favorite. My elective course in Creative Writing was by far my favorite class.

My writing professor James Doyle was the real deal- rough, scruffy, emotional and soft hearted. He encouraged his students to submit their work for publication and I did. I still have copies of College Reviews and other small publications that I was published in.They are stashed away in a hard to open dusty drawer in the bottom of my bookcase.

Two summers after graduating I applied for, got accepted to, and attended Naropa Institute (it wasn’t a university in those days) summer writing program in Boulder Colorado. I have such fond memories of sitting in the upstairs airy room of the old main orange building while Alan Ginsberg sat on the floor cross legged and led us in meditation. The one on one conferences with the iconic beat poets were intimidating and exhilarating. The summer sessions were only two weeks long. I was just a traveler, stopping by.

Soon after I returned from those mind blowing workshops. I got married and had kids. Sensible me also started a business the same year my eldest daughter was born. I had convinced myself that my wistful, artsy days would be a thing of the past.

There were however rare moments when my kids were all asleep, and I would sit on my back deck under the stars wrapped in a poncho and smoke a cigar. Moments when I felt like me and not the imposter lady who lived in the suburbs and in a matter of hours would be flipping pancakes and packing lunches .

My life as a wife, mother and businesswoman was hectic to say the least. When my alarm would go off at 6:30 in the morning I’d say to myself “It’s show time” the line from the Bob Fosse’s film All That Jazz.

For the next twenty five years it was show time. I don’t regret those years and having kids was and is one of the best treasures of my life. Yes, looking back I might have approached my life and time management differently. BUT….

Fast forward to my life now. My three kids are thriving adults. I left the suburbs and have been divorced for nearly ten years. I’m semi retired from my business. Since this crazy year of 2020 with the Covid 19 pandemic and ensuing quarantine, I have been forced to be more still than I have since I was that nine year old girl writing poems.

Something interesting is happening to me. I hadn’t planned on writing, but all of the sudden, I feel I have something to say and the time to write. Although this is new, at the same time it feels like a return to a part of me that has been dormant and waiting. I feel as if I’ve reunited with an old friend I had felt close to and missed.