The other day, I met a woman at my gentle yoga class. It’s the end of summer and worn out by the heat, the cool, air-conditioned mind and body room offered respite. Before class began, the woman looked at me and asked, “What do you do?” I hadn’t been asked that in years, as I am long past retirement. “I’ve written several books, and our writing group is working on a collection of short stories and poems,” I said. I wanted to say something that felt positive, at least to me. “Do you write?” I asked the woman, who looked to be in her seventies. She said she didn’t. She is often tired, she said. “I have no energy.” She pondered the possibility that boredom contributed to her malaise. “But I’ve started coming to this class, and that’s something,” she said.
Exercise gave both physical and mental strength, and she congratulated herself for trying something new. Exactly!

We all need to find positivity and energy in our lives. Otherwise, what’s the point? After I got home from yoga, I started rereading May Sarton’s Journal of A Solitude. Sarton writes: Life—all of it—flows through this instrument (writing) and is distilled through it into works of art. How one lives as a private person is intimately bound into the work.
My ordinary life is often lifted into the extraordinary by my work. As summer draws to a close, the sun on my face, the perk of Lily’s ears when she hears my son’s car in the driveway, and meeting someone new in my yoga class is what I try to capture in words in hopes of sharing with you. The work and the energy are intertwined, fostered by a new project, which is the Women’s Writing Circle anthology and my work-in-progress novel.

In my last novel And the Memory Returns, Ava hopes that writing about her life could reveal some truth. What had it all meant? What was the purpose of her life?
That book was a writing odyssey that took me three years to complete. The title was derived from one of my favorite writing prompts and each day I looked forward to working on the book. It gave me so much energy, that project. Although some memories are based on my own life, Ava’s memories belong to her, not me. She is every woman, raising a child, feeling the pressure always to be perfect, and deciding she’s going to keep going. Age won’t hold her back as she ruminates on her life in a deeply personal way.
“Happiness—if there was such a thing—came with creating a meaningful life. Writing was her work, her pastime, and her job. With writing, all the rest fell into place.”

Writing also allows us to vent, something we all need to do from time to time. Sarton writes: And at some point, I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or friend and come out with personal truth.
Vulnerable writing, what Sarton calls being “naked,” offers positive outcomes. When I write about a person who is mentally unwell or whose sole focus appears to be revenge or manipulation or control—take your pick—that is a segue way to an examination of the human condition that is reflective rather than reactive. It also reminds me to savor the “truth” of good people in my life, those who offer the gift of empathy and compassion.
Yesterday, I saw the woman again in my yoga class. She looked lively as she chatted with another woman. I felt good being there too, stretching my muscles and easing my mind. We all take it one day at a time, not pushing on some days but pushing harder on others. Just breathe. To my writing friends, there is no right way or wrong way, just enjoy the energy and positivity that comes with the work.

Low energy today because I expended too much yesterday. Now, savoring the well-being of my Pilates class, I’ll have lunch.
As you know, I collect quotations, here is one from May Sarton’s Journal of a Solitude, p. 89
“A strange empty day. I did not feel well, lay around, looked at daffodils against the white walls, and twice thought I must be having hallucinations because of their extraordinary scent that goes from room to room.”
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I love that quote. Thank you, Marian. Pilates. Wow! Good for you!
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‘Life—all of it—flows through this instrument (writing) and is distilled through it into works of art.’ I really like this quote from May Sarton.
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I know. So beautiful. Thanks for stopping by and commenting, Margaret.
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May Sarton was a lifeline when I was going through a period of solitude. Thanks for reminding me of her work!
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Thanks, Linda, for reading. I think I first heard about Sarton at an IWWG conference long ago!
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