20. Mar, 2014

My life in the wild!

Doesn’t time fly?

     Although I get up early every single day of the week, there still doesn’t seem to be enough hours in a day. Just a few moments ago I glanced at the library of books we have at our home for waifs and strays and  wondered if I would ever get the time to look at them let alone read them. I also wondered if I would ever see my own book, sitting on the shelf staring back at me.

       I have been a ‘writer’ ever since my tiny fingers touched a pen. I was once told by my teacher that I had the most vivid imagination of any child he had taught in thirty years. I was offended at the time and very embarrassed but I have looked back over the years and smiled at his remark. He was probably right you know. In fact, he was dead right! It is that imagination that saved me from despair....many times.

 

       I have written many books, some complete, some not and some just desperately waiting to escape onto paper. I have won writing competitions and published articles and short stories.....but I’m still waiting on that book...the one I keep a space for on the shelf at our home for waifs and strays.

      I left home at 15 (that is the time when my dear, eccentric father also left) and by the time I was 23, I had lived a thousand lives. My footprints are embedded in virgin land across the globe. It is no wonder that my head is spinning with tales to tell.

      For some time, I lived amongst the Makah Indians in the wilds of the Pacific. It was here I fished amongst the great orcas in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Bartering with the Indians became a way of life; a life which I knew was totally illegal. I soon began to change and looked at everything in a completely different way. One couldn’t help but to do this, especially as I was so young and already felt I had lived a lifetime.

     I played music in mountains more spectacular than those found in Switzerland (though I have been there also and they are indeed magnificent). I have done things perhaps I shouldn’t have done and risked my life a million times. My feet, though small, have walked many miles in places less travelled and my heart is engrained with enough stories to fill a thousand books. It’s no wonder I have little trouble finding tales to tell to you each evening...but I do need to finish my books.

      So what is one supposed to do with so many words and so little time?

      Well I have thought about this and can only come up with this answer....Whatever it is you are longing to do you, writing a book, travelling, a different way of cooking, visiting friends you haven’t seen for ages, painting...whatever it is, you must find a way to fit that piece of missing jigsaw into your life picture. It is as simple as that. You see, my dear friends, it is indeed, later than you think!