Sometimes my writing-Juju runs a little dry. Not a writer's block, per se. Hell, give me a topic and I'll write on it. I have written about shit as a challenge. And it was not my worst post.
I wonder what my worst post was. Perhaps this will be it.
But back to the writing-Juju. What IS Juju? Power. Magic. Not unrelated to Mojo in my opinion.
What do I know? I'm just a white girl sangin' the blues.
Only I have no blues to talk about today. It's been a good day. A windy day. A day of gifts received. A day of gifts recognized.
The kind of day that that when shit happens, you wish you could have in its simple yet amazing pleasure.
Here is the joy of getting older: you recognize these good days for what they are. A day where nothing at all bad happens and a day when you get to spend time with people whom you love. A day where you get e-mails from a friend of forty years. A day when you can say to the one you love- we have a beautiful house and that one you love knows that this is code for we have a beautiful life. A day where you can discuss religion and politics and not get angry but just be happy to be able to do it with someone who is intelligent and that you respect. A day where a two-year old gets his first big-boy bed. A day where someone walks in your kitchen door with a bottle of vodka and you hug her so hard to yourself and she hugs you back that strongly. A day where you go to the library and walk out with a fortune in books, all for free.
A day where you can go to a grocery store and pay for the food you want to eat.
That kind of day.
And I would trade it for a hundred days of writing-Juju. Or Mojo.
But I'll still write about it. I'll still say this is how it is sometimes.
And so I have.
Dear Ms Moon,ReplyDelete
Your Mojo is always workin' as far as I can see.
Here's to more days just like these.
Ms. Planting Woman- Mmmm. There is Mojo and there is Mojo. Or is there Juju and then there is Juju?ReplyDelete
Either way, I will report on it. Are you home and safe?
This is a good life.ReplyDelete
I've missed you all day and am glad to see that you've had a good one. I've been away from my computer most of the day, unable to check in, but here I am.ReplyDelete
Love you. Love your MoJu.ReplyDelete
I love the way you shared it, straight up magic. Just one of those things would have made it a good day. But all of those things happening together, well, that's something indeed.ReplyDelete
Who brought the vodka? Why didn't anyone call me?!ReplyDelete
I'm happy you had a great day and noted it as well.
Here's to mojo's and jujus and magic.
Juju or mojo, I think you're incapable of writing a bad post.ReplyDelete
The poet Elizabeth Bishop once wrote to her friend Robert Lowell who put letters from a distressed and betrayed ex-wife in his poems, 'Art just isn't worth that much' and I have always felt we shouldn't focus on writing at the expense of living.
I thought that was called "count your blessings"...ReplyDelete
Mojo is positive energy, juju is negative energy. You definitely want the Mojo, not the juju... At least, that is how it feels in my book of life.
It's a sort of simply orchestrated magic, isn't it? Lately I've been thinking that it's maybe our jobs as women to create it. You always bring magic in your words.ReplyDelete
home and safe...thank you!ReplyDelete
so much work to do, will fill you in later.
Ellen- Some days it's just so easy to be grateful.ReplyDelete
Elizabeth- I am so glad you check in.
Omgrrrl- Heh! Moju!
Angella- It was a perfect coming-together.
Ms. Fleur- We didn't open the vodka. The woman is an actress in many of Freddy's films.
Mary LA- Or as the father of a friend of mine said at the dinner table once: Art, Fart.
Photocat- Light and darkness. Gotta have 'em both to see either one.
Siverfinofhope- It's because I write on a Mac.
Ms. Planting- Good! The world is right again.
Ms. Moon, you could write this all into a tattered black and white composition notebook and it will still be gorgeous. xoxooxxooReplyDelete
Ms. Silverfin- Aw, thanks.ReplyDelete
I like mojos and songs about getting them working. The blues singers evidently feel the same.ReplyDelete
I'd hug anyone who brought me a bottle of vodka (well, except for George W. Bush--I wouldn't hug his dumb ass for ANYTHING).ReplyDelete