Thirty Days Hath Newvember

Well, wow, THANK YOU.  This blog is still alive and well-- thanks to its amazing, and loyal, and thoughtful, and encouraging, WONDERFUL readers. You humble me.

So, November is National Novel Writing Month. I always attempt it, even though I know that I won't "win" it because I just don't write that fast.  So, I think I'm going to do my own version of that. I don't know if I mentioned that I have begun my book about my journey through chronic pain. It's been fermenting for a long time now and one day, I read this post by artist Jennie de Groot (BLOG READER) and when I read this: "I just did it. Because every time I painted a totally crap painting, it was still 100% better than not painting at all," I decided to just, well, start writing. Because any writing was better than NO writing. I'd been fighting with myself over the shape of the book and whether it was interesting enough and was it too narcissistic and... and then I started writing and the shape appeared. Anyway, I've been trying, with various degrees of success, to write a little bit every day. My November goal will be to write 200 words per day.  I have this theory that it's like yoga -- if I tell myself to go get on my mat for five minutes, it inevitably turns into at least 30. But it's the constancy that I'm looking for, because as Sri Dharma Mittra says, "It takes constant practice."

November is a particularly joyful month for me.  It holds my favorite holiday (Thanksgiving) and it marks the anniversary of my first yoga class on my journey back to health. (November 3.) If you wanted to join me by setting one small daily goal for yourself, I bet by the end of the month, we'd have created enough positive, disciplined energy to change the world for the better, just a little bit.

Who's in?

And excerpt from the book in progress:

Here’s the thing: I believe our natural state is one of radiant health.  We are DESIGNED for radiant health.

 I have a story.  It’s a story of disassociation from my body, a long chronic pain episode, and then finding my way out of that, and back to radiant health. It is a story of triumph and valiance, and also despair and depression.  But mostly the former. It is my biggest hope that telling my story might spur you to write your own story, with an ending that you get to choose.  I remember the despair of chronic excruciating pain.  I remember thinking that I couldn’t seem to explain it to the people around me; that no one could possibly understand how bad it was. I remember thinking that I should just either kill myself or shut up already.

 I remember. You are not alone.