When I was her student at Breadloaf (1995, I believe it was), Terry gave me very encouraging advice about the book I was then writing: Women and Houses: "You must publish this book. It will be a healing balm to all women." She wrote those words in the flyleaf of her book, Refuge.
I meant to publish that book, but I never did. Instead, I came home, got a divorce, and started a new life. The writing of that book was a healing balm for the writer--as books sometimes are.
In the past two days, I've had two amazing conversations with friends, Kate yesterday, Deb on the phone this morning. Isn't it amazing how just the right real authentic person can set you back on your feet when you're having doubts about--your writing, your life, your now-what? next step? The energy for creativity goes underground sometimes, then emerges again fuller than it was before it plunged. There must be a law of physics or something that says something to that effect?
Anyway, the renewed energy for the book I am now writing has taken me back to a wonderful book by Terry: When Women Were Birds.
This underlined passage stood out for me:
The world begins with yes.
Changing women. We begin again like the Moon. We can no longer deny the destiny that is ours by becoming women who wait--waiting to love, waiting to speak, waiting to act. This is not patience, but pathology.
Friends show up (on porches, on the telephone, and in the pages of books) just when we need them most. We re-member who we are in the presence of friends--as in taking back the "members" of ourselves that we have cut off.
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