Love Letter #79: Reflection Point #1 on my Substack Journey
What and Why am I doing this?
(We know the day we were born, but most of us do not know the day we will die. This love letter to my life is written each month on the day I've designated as my death day: the 17th of every month, and reminds me to be grateful for my joy-filled life. —Joyce Wycoff)
As I approach my 3rd year here on Substack … as well as my second identity … from Gratitude Mojo to Wild Beauty … with 370 published posts and this being the beginning of a new year, I’ve decided it’s time for some serious reflection on what and why I’m doing this.
Several years ago, I got a wild hare idea that I would like to do an MFA in poetry. I had just entered my 50s and was going through a poetry-flooded stage with five published non-fiction books behind me. I decided I was done with non-fiction and submitted my application to Antioch University’s MFA poetry program with complete confidence … only to be rejected.
Dusting off my bruised ego, I applied to the prestigious Squaw Valley Writers Workshop (now the Community of Writers), equally confident in spite of being rejected a few years previously. Rejection again and this one rocked my confidence. I was a published writer but they were still refusing my money! That set back made me question the whole writing thing. Maybe I was on the wrong track.
The next few years were filled with life distractions that hit bottom in 2009 when I found myself lost and alone in a strange town wondering where life was taking me. As it often does, a chance meeting changed everything … I became a blogger and my second blog post told the story of this happenstance which divided my life into “before” and “after.”
We all have those moments when life changes … what was one of yours?
Once again: (Thank you, Diane Walker for your compassionate words. Diane went on to be an amazing painter. Click image below or here for more of her art.)
Words and images began to refill my cup. The day after that workshop, I added “blogger” to my identity, which was already shedding old skin to make room for “digital artist.” And, a couple of months later I made my art debut at a gallery in Nederland, Colorado, in the midst of the Frozen Dead Guys Day celebration. (Read here for a fun story about the dead guy at the heart of this festival.)
1,220 blog posts later, I started hearing about this thing called Substack. So, now I’m here, regularly posting twice a week and sometimes a few extra like this one that falls on 17th of every month. I love being here and am proud to be in this community of writers and readers.
In spite of the strange and challenging years ahead of us, I look forward to reading what you send my way and knowing that I can write what I want without even thinking about rejection. I believe that what we do is an act of optimism … as the opening quote by Edward Albee states: we wouldn’t do this if we didn’t believe it mattered.
May we all grow wiser and share our wisdom in these coming times.
Here's to more wild beauty, wherever we find it. Thanks, Joyce.
An empty coffee cup.
Reminds me—changing this a little—of the story of the Zen master asked to teach of fierce general the wisdom of Buddhism.
The Zen master said no and put a full cup of tea in front of the general. Then he put the teapot in front of the general and asked him to pour in new tea. The general said he couldn’t because the tea cup was full.
Exactly replied the master.
May you always leave room in your tea cup.