My family and friends know me well. The quickest path to my heart is laden with chocolate. I have my favourites but am far from a chocolate snob. Usually I receive many chocolatey gifts. In coffee shops in winter (which amounts to 6 months of the year here in northwestern Ontario) I often order a white hot chocolate piled with whipping cream. No better solace for a frozen soul. On my first birthday after my mother had died, I made a lunch date with Carole, one of my five stepdaughters, the one who was best friends with my son from long before my now-husband and myself had met, the one who was the same age as my son. She lived across town. Without thinking, I drove past the hospital where Mam had died on the way to Carole's house. And I dissolved in tears from that point on. I was a mess when Carole opened her door, my coat soaked with tears. She simply hugged me and held me as I sobbed, then she reached into her fridge and produced a huge white box which had taken up a whole shelf. "This was supposed to be for after lunch. It's your birthday present but you can have one now if you want." She opened the box. I have no idea how many chocolate drizzled or chocolate cream filled desserts were in that box. My mouth watered. I remember that. "I couldn't choose one or even two. It's one of each of the whole bottom tray in the baker's." A girl after my own heart. Vanessa, another step daughter, one with two young daughters and who understands the need to keep her own precious things well out of the reach of little hands, gave me the chocolate sign above for my birthday last year along with several packages of delicious local chocolate. But Nessa could hardly wait to show me the back of the box (see photo to right). She made it herself: a secure place for a hidden stash of chocolate! And believe me, I use it often. Not that I have to hide it from anyone--except myself. Last fall, I learned that I was diabetic. A shock! Especially given my chocoholic nature. I still eat chocolate from time to time but limit myself much more than I ever used to. As I drove around town after receiving my diagnosis, all I could envision were white chocolate curls falling like tears. Tears from me or from the chocolate industry, I wasn't sure.
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And so it begins. Starting a blog. It feels a little like I imagine a stand up comic feels looking out at the audience. Terrifying. I always try to be the person in an audience that anyone onstage can relate to...you know the one who smiles and nods and laughs at the right moment. A safe haven. Being that safe haven to myself can be trickier. But a blog is safer. I can stand here alone on a dark stage and spout off about nothing and only quietly slink away when the cleaning crew come in and clatter. No one need ever know I was here. Except you. YOU are my spotlight. Thank you for being here. I wasn't sure what to say, where to start so maybe I'll just free associate with an image that came to mind when I wrote about nodding my head. It can be disconcerting to see or hear yourself. Can you remember when you first heard your voice on an answering machine or tape recorder? Weird, right? I remember the first time I saw myself in an interview on TV. I was promoting the launch of a short story anthology from a writers group, Thunder Bay Writers Guild, of which I was (am still :-) ) a member. I'd talked on the radio, too. Much better at things which didn't include an immediate live audience. But when I saw the TV interview...scary. Much more animated than I ever realised. What astounded me was how much I nodded my head! I could have doubled for one of those nodding fuzzy-clad animals in cars, you know the ones that continually nod as the vehicle moves. Totally embarrassing. Everyone who saw it applauded me and said yes, I really did nod that much. Even more embarrassing. But in a good way, they reassured me. They said it with relief in their voices, too, as though they were glad it hadn't been them making a fool of themselves on TV! So, at least you're spared my nodding. What I do want to share are some of my 'small stones' (haiku). I wrote them daily for over two years. They became a kind of diary or daily chronicle. The idea came from a website on mindful writing which encouraged paying attention to detail as an inlet to strong writing. A final word, what I had really wanted to say, was something about the power of showing up. I decided to finally blog as a response to Effy Wild's blogalong challenge and it's taken me a week to try to sort out my site and make it all pretty and be brave about being so open with my life but here I am showing up. And here you are, also showing up. Little by little we are making a difference, moving forward in a slightly different direction because of our encounter. One of my all time favourite books, The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, mentions something about how little acts, however small and insignificant they may seem at the time, add up and ultimately change the trajectory of the biggest projects. Ultimately, of course, our lives. We have such power, you and I.
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AuthorWelcome! I'm Sue Blott: a writer of all things, a poet at heart, mom, wife, daughter, step-mom, grandma, tea drinker, tai chi-er, mystic, artist, dreamer...and now a blogger! This is my world. Categories |