The Skill of Iron

What if a person only has a certain amount of words in them?  I mean, what if while writing a story there’s a creative pool within that is slow to drain?  I dare to consider… This week was tremendously productive as far as the current book is concerned, but as far as my blog, I’m suffering from a case of “empty word syndrome.”

A lack of “saying” is foreign to me.  Ask anyone who knows me personally; I’m always one for conversation.  There’s always something new, something interesting, challenging, beautiful, curious, and inspiring…I see it, I feel it…I talk about it.  This week however, it seems as if the oomph within has been depleted.  The spring in my voice seems to have rusted and it creaks with every syllable.

I could mention the story at hand.  As I’ve noted before, it was my daughter who posed the idea of taking something that I had begun years ago and spinning it in a new direction.  So, the story begins with a “clunk,” the clunk of an iron skillet…which is a notion based on real life events.  Thank you Aunt Matilda!  She was pushed too far and she stood her ground all with the help of her iron skillet.  There was a solid “clunk” and then an immediate “thud” …and that was that. 

I’m not saying a person should go around defending themselves with an iron skillet, no…but I guarantee she never had an ounce of trouble being bullied from the moment of impact on.  It was a brilliant outcome, and just from hearing her story I’ve never quite looked at our iron skillet the same again.  No argument needed, just holster an iron skillet and if not for a weapon, it sure does well to provide some kickin' fajitas.

Channel change…This morning I awoke thinking about horses.  At first I believed horses were necessary to my story but after some research I learned that depending on what time of year a person traveled the Oregon Trail, horses might have been impractical.  I might have mentioned this before but the problem with livestock was how to feed them.  The landscape made it difficult for horses to graze so oxen were a better choice.  Imagine being pulled across the country by a team of oxen.  I’m sure it would seem as if a person could travel more efficiently if they simply walked. 

In all honesty, I might just trade in my car for a wagon and some oxen.  I’ve been having a bit of difficulty behind the wheel under certain conditions.  I think (ahem, yes I’ll admit it) because of my age, my hormones are amuck.  Hot flashes, panic attacks and during those moments, I’d rather be anywhere but behind the wheel!  Air, give me air…cold wonderful air.  Short trips I’m a-ok….long journeys, not so much.  Is there some way to fast forward past this time of transition?  If only.

I truly enjoyed the book (yes I read the book) “Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café.”  I think Fanny Flagg eloquently described the “I’m too young to be old and I’m too old to be young” gut of the beast.   Mid life is about slowing down, starting over, accepting and embracing…looking back, looking forward and the great redefining of self. 

Unfortunately, in today’s world we’ve become youth obsessed.  That’s okay if you’re young and fit into the mode of “hip.”  The truth is; youth no matter how hard a person tries to keep a tight grip, well it all trickles through the creases of your fingers anyway.  Minutes, hours, days, months, years…bing- bang-boom…fast forward.  You wake up; look in the mirror and scream, “what the heck happened?”  Forget plastic surgery…who wants to have their face so tight that they’re set in a constant surprise?  After all, every line, crease and wrinkle is a tribute to a life well lived.  It’s time to stop allowing others to tell us what’s beautiful and begin to show the world what actually is!  It never was about “the outside in” but “the inside out.” 

The truth is; the only way for us to move past what society deems as “hip” is to work on a re-write.  It’s time to spotlight the magnificence of wisdom, the richness of life experience and carry an iron skillet even if simply in spirit “just in case” we need it.

I for one am thrilled to have this opportunity to offer a bit of middle aged perspective… whether it’s real or imagined, fact or fiction, truth or dare…it is all simply me being me.  Now does anyone know of an oxen dealership in the Chicago region?  I think at this point in my life that would be the best way to travel.

Thanks for checking in~ 

~Trixie Archer